


Ink As A Euphemism For Other Things

by merryfortune



Series: YGO Kinktober [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V, Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Belly Kink, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Breeding, Cannibalism, Choking, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Fingering, Frottage, Gags, Interspecies Sex, Kinktober 2019, Leather Kink, Lingerie, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Other, Piss kink, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Public Masturbation, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Size Difference, Temperature Play, Tentacle Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 35,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Fictober/Kinktober fic collection. Chapter 1 serves as a table of contents for in-depth and specific tags/warnings.





	1. Table of Contents

**October 1st //** Glory Hole | Bukkake | **Sexual Frustration** | Roleplay

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Kengo-centric
  * **Word Count:** 912
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Pre-Canon, Masturbation, Slight Angst

**October 2nd // **Soft Dom/Coaching | Pain-play |** **Pregnancy** **| Intercrural Sex 

  * **Ship:** Infectshipping | Aso/Kyoko
  * **Word Count:** 1,272
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Belly Kink, Lingerie, Vaginal Sex

**October 3rd //** Breast-play/Nipple-play | **Breeding** | Phallic Gags/Gags | Shower/Bath/Underwater

  * **Ship:** ColdBloodedshipping | Blue Eyes White Dragon/Kaiba
  * **Word Count:** 1,398
  * **Universe:** Alternate – Duel Monsters/Dark Side of Dimensions Fusion
  * **Tags:** Interspecies Sex, Non-Human Genitalia, Breeding Kink, Size Difference, Cervix Penetration

**October 4th //** Size Difference | Distension | Knotting | **Breath-play**

  * **Ship:** Genesisshipping | Ray/Zarc
  * **Word Count:** 831
  * **Universe:** Arc V – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Pre-Canon, Choking, Femdom, Slight Degradation

**October 5th** // **Upskirt Sex** | Domesticity | Cream-pie | Bulges

  * **Ship:** Faithshipping | Aki/Yusei
  * **Word Count:** 857
  * **Universe: **5Ds – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Making Out, Implied Lap Sex

**October 6th //** **Praise Kink** | Face-Fucking/Deep Throat | Power Bottom | Heat Cycle

  * **Ship:** Keepshipping | Asuka/Grace
  * **Word Count:** 1,205
  * **Universe:** Arc V – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Post Canon, Fem Dom, Dom/sub, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Praise Kink, Bondage, Gags, Temperature Play

**October 7th** **//** Body Modification/Decoration | Bondage | Frottage | **Cock Worship**

  * **Ship:** Saviorshipping | Ryoken/Spectre/Yusaku
  * **Word Count:** 730
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags: **Post Canon, Oral Sex, Blowjobs

**October 8th //** **Filming** | Daddy Kink | Sadism/Masochism | Dirty Talk

  * **Ship:** Scoopshipping | Carly/Jack
  * **Word Count:** 908
  * **Universe:** 5Ds – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags: **Post Canon, Consensual Kink, Paranoia Issues, Lingerie, Woman On Top

**October 9th //** Primal Play | Voyeurism | Kemonomimi/Tails | **Massage**

  * **Ship:** Mascotshipping | Ai/Kusanagi
  * **Word Count:** 1,661
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Missing Scene Fic, Dirty Talk, Fingering (Technically), Size Difference, Interspecies Relationships, Interrupted Sex

**October 10th //** Anal Pounding | Anonymous Sex | **Medical Play** | Electricity

  * **Ship:** Scytheshipping | Ema/Kyoko
  * **Word Count:** 864
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Soft Medical Play, Costume Play, Fem Dom, Slight Dom/sub, Slight/Implied Sadism

**October 11th //** Pillow Prince(ss) | Vore (Soft) | **Dacryphilia (Crying)** | Face-Sitting

  * **Ship:** Firebirdshipping | Aki/Crow
  * **Word Count:** 1,455
  * **Universe:** 5Ds – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Missing Scene Fic, Implied/Referenced Aki/Divine, Implied/Referenced Aki/Yusei, Frottage, Crying During Sex, Rough Sex, Scratching

**October 12th // Age-play** | Lingerie | Exhibitionism | Fangs

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Spectre/Sunavalon Dryatrentiay
  * **Word Count:** 2,510
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Missing Scene Fic, Possible Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Mummy Kink, Implied Mummy Dom/Little Boy Dynamics, Size Difference, Interspecies Relationships, Interspecies Sex, Tentacle Sex

**October 13th //** Cross-dressing | Reluctant Sex/Blackmail | **Window/Balcony Sex** | Overstimulation

  * **Ship:** Kingcrabshipping | Jack/Yusei
  * Word Count: 1,085
  * **Universe:** Alternate – 5Ds/ZeXal Fusion
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Sex

**October 14th //** Body Worship | **Bloodplay** | Brat Taming | Sex Toys

  * **Ship:** Treasonshipping | Kiryu/Yusei
  * **Word Count:** 1,049
  * **Universe:** 5Ds – Canon Divergent
  * **Tags:** Angst, Dark Fic, Possible Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dark Signer Yusei AU, Blood Play, Manslaughter, Slight Necrophilia, Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, Making Out, Starvation Imagery

**October 15th //** Semi-Public/Public Masturbation | **Omegaverse** | Sounding | Dub-Con/Non-Con

  * **Ship:** Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre
  * **Word Count:** 1,505
  * **Universe:** Alternate – Omegaverse
  * **Tags:** Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Heat Cycles, Nesting, Self-Lubrication, Slick, Scent Kink, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex, Knotting, Penetrative Sex, Loss of Virginity

**October 16th //** Mutual Masturbation | Double (or More) Penetration | Suspension | **Amputation**

  * **Ship:** Algorithmshipping | Kengo/Shoichi
  * **Word Count:** 1,095
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags: **Canon Disabled Character, Acrotomophilia, Probable Ableism, Scars, Slight Degradation, Hand Jobs, Lube, Implied Fisting

**October 17th //** **Jealousy/Possessiveness** | Menstruation | Solo/Masturbation | Feederism/Food-play

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Asuka/Gloria
  * **Word Count:** 954
  * **Universe:** Arc V – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Implied Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking

**October 18th //** Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | 69 Position | **Lactation** | Orgasm Denial

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Hayami/Kengo
  * **Word Count:** 1,319
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Developing Relationship, Lactophilia, Nipple Play, Food Play, Tit-fucking, Pearl Necklace, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Breastfeeding, Brief References to STIs

**October 19th //** **Stockings/Socks** | Choking | Collar/Leash | Hypnosis/Mind Control

  * **Ship:** Ruinshipping | Aki/Jack
  * **Word Count:** 762
  * **Universe:** 5Ds – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Shoe Worship, Degradation, Slight Body Worship

**October 20th //** Stuck in a Wall | Degradation/Humiliation | **Spanking **| Sex Pollen

  * **Ship:** Smileshipping | Yoko/Yusho
  * **Word Count:** 897
  * **Universe:** Arc V – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Domestic Disputes, Dubiously Consensual Kink, Slight Dom/sub, Slight Fem-dom, Handcuffs, Spanking, Laughing During Sex (kind of)

**October 21st //** **Auralism** | Fem-Dom | Biting/Marking | Seduction

  * **Ship:** Hireshipping | Akira/Ema
  * **Word Count:** 717
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Phone Sex, Sexting, Semi-Public Masturbation, Implied Jealousy/Possessiveness

**October 22nd //** Micro/Macro | Cum Inflation | **Outdoor Sex** | Master/Mistress

  * **Ship:** Rosetreeshipping | Aki/Spectre
  * **Word Count:** 1,229
  * **Universe:** Alternate – 5Ds/Vrains Fusion
  * **Tags:** Semi Public Sex, Outdoor Sex, Dendrophilia, Consensual Kink, Clothed Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cream Pie, Slight Come Play, Implied/Referenced Ryoken/Yusei

**October 23rd //** **Leather** | Phone Sex/Sexting | Maid/Butler | Tickling

  * **Ship:** Elfinshipping | Ema/Hayami
  * **Word Count:** 1,234
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Scent Kink, Leather Kink, Scissoring

**October 24th //** **Semi-Public/Public Sex** | Dom/Sub | Aphrodisiacs | Coiling

  * **Ship:** Instituteshipping | Himika/Leo
  * **Word Count:** 912
  * **Universe:** Arc V – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Pre Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Marital Issues, Laughing During Sex, Partially Clothed Sex, Lingerie

**October 25th //** Spit-Roasting | Angry/Hate Sex | **Object Insertion** | Begging

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Akari/Droite
  * **Word Count:** 1,118
  * **Universe:** ZeXal – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Bondage, Food Play, Oral Fixation, Sex Toys

**October 26th //** **Somnophilia** | Clothing Theft | Breeding Mount | Immobilization

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Akira/Hayami
  * **Word Count:** 1,107
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Consensual Somnophilia, Unconsciousness Kink, Lingerie, Body Image Issues

**October 27th //** Body Swap | **Tentacles**| Size Queen | Sensory Deprivation

  * **Ship: **Earth/Spectre/Ryoken
  * **Word Count:** 1,050
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Divergent
  * **Tags:** Post Canon, Threesome – M/M/M, Tentacles

**October 28th //**Three-(or More)-some | Fucking Machine | Pet-play | **Shot-gunning**

  * **Ship: **Squabbleshipping | Crow/Jack
  * **Word Count:** 665
  * **Universe: **5D's - Canon Complaint
  * **Tags:** Shot-gunning, Fisting, Handjobs

**October 29th**//****Cuckolding | ****Piss ****| Prostitution | Telepathic or Empathetic Bonds

  * **Ship:** not applicable | Hayami/Queen
  * **Word Count:**1,572
  * **Universe:** Vrains - Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:**Non-Consensual Kink, Piss Kink, Omoroshi, Power Play, Sexual Humiliation, Light Sadism, Slight Crying Kink

**October 30th ** // Cuckolding | Cum Swallowing | **Office/Workplace **| Telepathic or Emphatic Bonds

  * **Ship: **Postureshipping | Asuka/Emi
  * **Word Count: **1,208
  * **Universe:** GX - Canon Compliant
  * **Tags: **Hot for Teacher, Inappropriate Student/Teacher Relationship, Public Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy

**October 31st //** **Four of a Kind** // Age-play, Gags/Phallic Gags, Object Insertion, Praise Kink

  * **Ship:** Respectfulshipping | Spectre/Ryoken
  * **Word Count:** 584
  * **Universe:** Vrains – Canon Compliant
  * **Tags:** Implied Mummy Dom/Little Boy Dynamics, Gags, Praise Kink


	2. Sexual Frustration

Kengo woke up that morning in agony.

Since the accident, that’s what he had been doing every morning. It had become routine. The pain, the humiliation, the frustration. It wasn’t normal to him but as time drudged on and he was made to remain hospitalised, waking up in agony had become no different to waking up to birdsong or the morning sunshine. The pain no different to pleasure; the pleasure no different to pain.

Hence why this agony struck him different. It was awful. He was horny. Unbearably, so. Made worse by the fact that he wasn’t a southpaw by nature. His left hand, that which remained after the accident, was not the one that he was dominant with. It felt as alien to him as the prosthetics that were supposedly being made for him.

But he stared it down regardless.

He flexed his hand. He had spent a lot of time contemplating it in the past few weeks; since coming to consciousness in the hospital. Kengo recalled the girls who would flirt with him in high school; oh, how they admired his hands, playing coy, wanting to compare sizes, their ulterior motives continued to perturb Kengo. Supposedly marvellous things with long, elegant fingers and a handsome palm with cute lines upon them which Kengo had never cared for, even when they cooed about how woefully short lifeline. Perhaps he was supposed to have died in this accident, Kengo thought as his fingers curled in against his palm in an almost aggressive strain.

He never knew how good he had it in bodily terms until now. He had to be taught to do a lot of things one handed. Simple, stupid things which should have been easy, but he couldn’t help but fuck up because he was naturally right-handed and had never trained his left hand to be even slightly useful. He had never broken a bone and he had never had some adolescent ambition of becoming ambidextrous either.

Kengo glanced at the digital clock beside him. It was a few minutes past nine in the morning. The hospital was constantly awake at all hours. Even the nights are rarely quiet. Security guards and exhausted nurses trotted through dim corridors. And now that it was morning, the lights were blindingly bright and people were everywhere, infesting this place no different to ants.

Kengo detested it. He detested that at any moment, he would be brought breakfast by some well-meaning, homely looking thing and he would be made to eat such a bland concoction or else he would starve. He hated that some orderly would pass by and ask him how he was doing and mention things about his next round of physio or counselling.

All Kengo wanted was relief. Freedom. True respite. Not being cooped up indoors underneath so much supervision. His cock ached. His mind raced. His hand moved beneath the covers.

He knew that someone could walk in at any moment. He knew that a slight breeze could disturb any semblance of privacy that the flimsy, turquoise curtain screens gave him. He knew that it would feel weird and wrong for a variety of reasons, some more traumatising than others, but he just needed a little bit of release.

His left hand felt odd to be wrapped around his penis. He drew it forth awkwardly from his boxers and the thin pyjamas that they made the patients wear. Kengo kept his head up. For the first time in years, since he was fourteen or so, really, he couldn’t bear to watch himself masturbate. He couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t fantasise. He just went through the motions.

All he could do was masturbate to his misery, bleary eyed and brimming with self-loathing. Kengo’s breath hitched in his throat yet there was no revelry in how dry his palm against his shaft felt. His brow twinged as he increased his pace. He rocked himself, back and forth, his hand sliding downwards then hoisting back up. He tried other, little tricks with himself which, with his right hand, would have sent him wild but it was so unsatisfying.

But he pressed onwards. Some part of his brain was stimulated. Precum dripped down his slit. It was gross. Kengo didn’t know why. He felt sheepish and weird. Despite his better efforts, all in all, he felt as though his left hand was merely flopping against his length. Grabbing it and playing with it but to little avail.

Something like an orgasm bubbled up through him. It was small and embarrassing. But he came anyway. His heart shuddered as he forced himself to whine. The noise reverberated in the back of his dry, almost sore throat and his eyes watered. It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

There was a knock on the doorframe. A nurse’s saccharine sweet voice called out and turned Kengo on. Finally, a proper thrill. The thought of forcing this poor woman through his fantasy, even if she was ugly, was more appealing than what Kengo had just put himself through carnally.

But he was quick to flinch at such unseemly thoughts. He had had his orgasm, as woeful as it was. So, Kengo stewed in his semen, and thought to himself that the worse was still to come. The fantasy was contained humiliation. The reality was far more spurred. The wet patch blatant over his crotch, seeping through to the sheets above him, his pitiful boner apparent beneath the covers.


	3. Pregnancy

Theoretically, Kyoko knew that getting pregnant would be terrible, but she went ahead and let herself succumb to impregnation anyway. It wasn’t an accident; the condom hadn’t broken or anything similar. She was just feeling more receptive to Aso’s more anti-latex moods and thus, Kyoko fell prey to the unrealistic optimism fallacy. After all, surely it couldn’t be _that_ easy to get pregnant but, apparently, it was.

Still, the result hadn’t exactly been completely out of the blue for them. Pregnancy, getting pregnant, kids: these were all topics that she and Aso had talked about extensively over the past ten years. His fetishes were quite contained to the idea of fertility and Kyoko was bemused by it at best; happy to indulge like she had the night of the consequent conception.

It was something that she and Aso were both ready for. Or at least, more ready for it than if it had had happened ten years ago or sooner. But, becoming the more or less legal guardians of two young children, and seeing them grow into fine young adults, by their standards anyway, had certainly given them more incentive to look ahead to the future and decide that they wanted to be parents to their own, flesh born progeny.

Their lives were slowly going back on track after the Incident and everything which had followed in its abhorrent wake. So now, three months after the final disappearance of the Dark Ignis and three months after the revival of all six Ignis, here they were, about seven months, actually, in the journey which was pregnancy.

So yes, Kyoko knew well what pregnancy would entail. She was a doctor, for crying out loud. She had done courses here and there on midwifery despite it not having been core to her goals. So, she knew how hideous the reality of pregnancy was going to be. There would be vomiting and diarrhea and mood swings and back pain and swelling and cravings. It was going to be horrible. And it was. Made worse by her living conditions, no matter how upgraded to cruise liner-like luxury, was still on the high seas and that just made her the whole of her body sway and ache.

But there was some good of it.

After all, her engorged belly and her milky breasts were major turn-ons for her de facto partner.

They had played around with it in the past. Mostly through dirty talk which evoked imagery of breeding and other grotesque infestations. Kyoko had even bought maternity wear to substitute more conventional lingerie with. The fantasy had been good. Aso had loved it and Kyoko had found it fun to indulge but now it was her turn. Her body, her rules.

And tonight, it was time to make some of those dreams come true.

Bedecked in ornate lingerie, Kyoko more than happily seduced her partner. She was a beauty the likes of which Aso had never been beholden to before tonight, in their room, hungry for all sorts of cravings tonight, kneeling on their bed, neatly tucked in and freshly laundered but not for long.

She wore a plummy coloured camisole which billowed around either side of her pregnant belly, framing it gorgeously for Aso to gawk at the from the other side of the room. His eyes betrayed himself by eagerly homing in on her puckered naval. She looked stunning in the clashing angles, the way it hid her breasts and obscured her nipples behind nude coloured fabric which supported her yet revealed that belly of hers. Beneath the curve of which, she wore satiny panties and stockings, complete with nearly diamante garters to keep them hoisted up her long, long legs.

Kyoko beckoned Aso closer and he was more than willing to comply. He was lovestruck as he approached her. Hands on the bed, pulling himself up and Kyoko placed her hands, delicately, on his staunch shoulders. With a grunt, she lifted herself up. Aso licked his lips and her hands slipped from their perch.

She delicately unlatched her garters with a swift pinch of her fingers. They fell away, languid, and curled over themselves, the fabric coiled in tendril-like beauty took Aso’s breath away, but it did not compare how Kyoko looked beneath her panties. With the garters out of the way, she was free to slide her fingers into the hem of her panties and pull downwards.

Aso watched in tepid anticipation. Already, his cock did strain against his dowdy trousers that he had been wearing all day. The bush of hair, crimson, over her pussy was untamed and already, she was odious in her lust. Kyoko smiled. Her lipstick was silken in her demure yet femme fatale-like demeanour.

“Aso…” she murmured.

“Y-Yes, right away, madam.” Aso stuttered, cheeks reddening as he hastily grabbed at his belt.

He reefed it away from his waist as quick as he could. He was clumsy, hot and ready, as he discarded his belt and tugged his cock free from the confines of his underwear. Kyoko eyed him up and he slotted in beneath her.

She grinded on him slightly. A slow, gradual movement which was hard on her knees but now that she had him to cushion her, she found it more manageable than if she had just been by herself. She held onto him, her fingers tight on his upper body and she nuzzled against him. Her smooth cheeks against the grizzle of his. She sighed into it though before initiating a kiss.

Aso kissed her ardently. She hummed into the kiss as his eyes closed to her. His cock throbbed beneath her, between her legs. The tips grazed the opening of her vagina. She was heavy. So heavy and Aso couldn’t help but put his hands on her hips. Holding down the mystique of her sheer camisole.

“Go on,” Kyoko whispered, “I know you want to touch me.”

Her voice was husky and the mere suggestion of what she had said sent Aso wild with desire. Her quiet words hitting him like a rod to a bass drum. He all but trembled beneath her as she continued to gyrate over him, embracing him, and kissing with her beautiful lips.

“With pleasure.” Aso breathed.

His heart quivered as blood turned to courage in his veins. He didn’t want to touch her lest she broke, lest the fantasy fell apart, but this was real. She was real. Her weight was undeniable. Her touches, scant yet loving, were real; a searing proof upon himself as his hands slowly came inwards from her hips.

Aso slipped his hands beneath the veil of her camisole. Kyoko was so warm. His breath hitched as he cupped her engorged belly either side of her naval. It had ‘popped’ not too long ago, Aso had noticed. He thought it was beautiful. Kyoko was beautiful from head to toe but there was something beyond gorgeous about her swollen midsection. Aso couldn’t help himself.

And then he felt it. Over the warmth emanating from Kyoko and from within the dome of her belly, he felt it. A kick. A movement. Perhaps a punch. Proof of his child and the one that Kyoko was bearing for him. Aso’s heart pounded excitedly as a smile, both lit with joy and desire, crossed his face.

Kyoko kissed him over such a grin. And beneath herself, she felt the tip of Aso’s cock dig in past her cunt. She moaned and placed her own hands over Aso’s, they were so small in comparison and gave a thrust of her hips. Tonight, she thought, was going to be wonderful.


	4. Breeding

Absolutely power corrupts absolutely and Seto was more than willing to use that as a justification as to why he shouldn’t use his obscene wealth to be as obscene as possible.

It was a labour of love and lust, but it had come to fruition after so many long months of day in and day out in front various computers, machines, and many more devices. Throwing as much time and money as he could at it, he finally came to where he was now. Real Solid Vision was nearing completion. There were just a few tests to be conducted, to monitor safety and reliability. All those good and fun things. There were plenty of other operators for this situation but there was a scenario that Seto wished to enact. By himself. Privately. Tonight.

When all his workers had gone home for the night and had been given a paid vacation for the following weekend, Seto had a very important test that he wanted to conduct.

He, personally, had been the one to sculpt the Blue Eyes White Dragon card and associated animations. It was only right. There were only three in the world and he was their master. He refused to let someone else handle it. They were his. His and his alone. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Seto placed the card, upright, on his Duel Disc and it glittered. A serene and placid blue, like the breeze atop the jarred winter waves of the ocean, and something was sparked. A rainbow. Bright and prismatic. And then it followed through. Just as the simulations had been taught, a dragon took flight. Huge, enormous, all which Seto could see upon this barren and digital field of his own creation, made simply and purely for test runs such as these.

Her roar was deafening. Seto didn’t mind but the perfectionist who somehow managed to value other people outside of his inner sanctum of himself, his brother and his cards, noted to screw around the audio values later. For now, he let his ears ring and his eyes widen. It was loud and razing. It was perfect.

Her eyes looked down upon him with pristine and azure curiosity. Her scales were sharp. Edges upon clashing edges. Angular and guarded and again, pristine. Pure white. Her claws flexed and her tail whipped around.

Seto felt his heart pound. Slow, steady, yet quickening. Excited. Excitement bubbled up inside of him. His knees grew weak. His cock throbbed. His fingers flexed and she, Blue Eyes White Dragon, set off another roar. It shocked the whole of the room, empty save for them both.

If he didn’t know any better…

If Seto didn’t know any better, he would say that he was in the same room, sharing the same breath, as a real-life dragon.

But, alas, he did know better. He knew that her beauty was a cavalcade of miraculous zeroes and ones.

Seto took a breath and he drew in closer.

He placed his hand on the outer guard of Blue Eyes White Dragon’s foreleg. He looked up at her. His own blue eyes, wide and starry, as he was in utter awe of the beauty before him. She looked down upon him. Impressed that his hand had touched her leg. It had not phased through her. She snorted.

Seto was amused, almost innocently, by such a reaction. But he had other motives. Motives which he could almost convince himself that his love, fictional and digital, could sense. Regardless, Seto keened. Eyes hardened against the glare of her white scales, reflecting light, soft and bluish.

“Come.” he said.

He spoke with an almost godlike authority. Raw, assertive. He smirked to himself and with a croon, long and drawn out, she responded him. Not necessarily submissive, but certainly knowing of her place. They were equals. Master and dragon. Yet, not quite. Master and babe, perhaps. A sodomy, hot and warm, bubbled up through them both. A pungent scent in the air, perhaps imagined but heady and aroused, nonetheless.

Blue Eyes White Dragon shuffled about. Seto remained, rigidly still, as he watched her ready herself for his satisfaction. She swung herself around and Seto was revealed an artistry that he ought to be ashamed of. Her tail lifted and he saw it. Ridged, pink flesh opened, hidden by guard scales which were pointed and white. Seto licked his lips as he eyed it up. She whined, low and needy as she dropped herself to his level. He was so tiny. She was so large. Either way, it was a difference relished.

She puckered at his touch. Seto prodded her, assessing of her. She was firm yet soft. Warm, too. He didn’t understand it. There was something amiss with the technologies which he had acquired through that man, Akaba… Seto could only describe it as a heartbeat. An echo of a feeling. It muddied his thoughts. It seemed that he could put aside his other selves: the cold-hearted businessman, the coldblooded scientist, and so on and so forth. Seto huffed at himself.

Tonight, was for he and he alone; to sate his id, unrestrained and lusting. He would put aside all notions of whoever else he was and whoever else he had to please as a human outside of base desire.

Seto continued his touch of Blue Eyes White Dragon. Her tail moved slightly, and her voice caught in her throat as she tipped back her head. She was gorgeous. Her body was his. Exactly as it ought to be, he felt. Soon, Seto was satisfied – impatient – with his appraisal of her illusory body. She was perfect. She was beautiful.

Seto ripped himself out of his clothes. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to get started. He mangled his own clothes in this haste which began to consume him. Blue Eyes White Dragon waited patiently, mewling, and was soon rewarded.

Seto penetrated as best as he could. Her hole was small and tight, all things considered. His erection was steady but not yet at its fullest potential. He held onto her tightly. Her tail lifted up, over her own body, and his arm reached up, clinging onto the various scales which jutted out to protect her draconian cunt.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. That pungent odour was stronger here. He noted to himself that he had rendered the settings best here. Any stronger, he supposed, and the fantasy was too real. Too disgusting. But for now, it was just right as he thrust in her. Her body arching towards him, friction heating them both up. His cock throbbed.

The length of his cock was all but useless against her. Humans were not unlike ants to her but still, she so lovingly took upon his lust. Seto panted as he toyed with her cervix hidden inside her cloaca which he so futilely reached with his own length.

But it excited him. It excited him beyond any fantasy that he could have inside his own head, rendered by his own hand. Oh, he loved her. He loved her so much. He loved them all so much: his three Blue Eyes White Dragons. If it weren’t for limitations of his own biology, he would be fucking them all right here and now.

Not just fucking. Breeding them. He deserved it. As their sole and fated master. It was only right that it was his semen which filled them all. He could intimately imagine, and fantasise, about his semen being collected inside of her, funnelled to the appropriate chute of her cloaca where the finest would be made to fertilise her precious eggs. His seed, inside of Blue Eyes White Dragon, would hail a new era, he swears. Where digitality and spirituality became one, in that dimension all but unbeknownst to humans save a few.

What a beautiful and wonderful clutch they would soon have, Seto was certain. Strong, powerful. Just a little bit more and he could come.

Seto grunted out his feelings, fragile and horny and genuine and unguarded. His voice was desperate against Blue Eyes White Dragon and her grandiose body and hard scales. She mewled for him, eyes gleaming, and her guttural noises the deepest blessing upon his body as Seto worked himself up. Over and over, he thrust past and further into her cloaca, as best as he could with his puny, human penis.


	5. Breath-play

She took his breath away. She always took his breath away. And that’s what Zarc adored about her.

Ray was the most beautiful thing that Zarc had ever seen. She had this grace about her which was raw and unadulterated. Even when she tried to hide it beneath saccharine smiles and fancy perfume, her femininity was not soft. It was of hard nails and sharp teeth. Zarc couldn’t help but to feel breathless around her. She impressed him at every corner, in every Duel and in ever conversation and now, it was her fingers which pressed upon him. She was leaving indents at her own, cruel discretion. Her nails were in his neck. His breath was hers. Hers to take. And was being slowly squeezed out of him.

She straddled him, astride his hips, her knees to the ground. The carpet burned. It bit at Zarc’s back and at her knees, but ultimately, neither didn’t mind. She liked it up close and animalistic. Her Daddy could buy her nicest sheets in the world for to roll around in, but she liked to fuck on the floor instead. And, funnily enough, that’s how Zarc liked it too.

She clicked her tongue at Zarc who panted. His lungs ached beneath her weight. He bore a ditsy smile, wide and in utter bliss, as she choked him out. And, Ray, bemused by how he behaved so diligently a victim and loser to her, she awarded Zarc by thrusting, slow and grinding, against him. All the power from it, came from her legs as she rode through such a thrust as well.

Ray had such strong legs, as slender as they were. Model’s legs, really. But it was her hands which Zarc was willing to worship.

Her hands were a clamp upon his neck and Zarc wouldn’t want it any other way. After all, a Duellist’s hands were their most prized possession and Ray’s hands were gorgeous. Easily her most beautiful asset; even after her legs, her voluptuous hips, her naked breasts that he was beholden to now, her sharp eyes which concentrated solely on him, and her crimson hair which cascaded over her back. Even after all of what made her a goddess, it was her hands were, in Zarc’s humble opinion, the most beautiful of all. Elegant and dashing.

Ray’s constriction upon his neck was all but purifying. Her nails pinched Zarc’s throbbing veins. His breath hitched and she consumed him. She thrust against him and his cock ached. It rubbed up against her panties; nothing special for tonight but Zarc liked that better than lingerie, to be honest. He liked to see the girl – the woman – beneath the baby-doll façade that she projected with popped, pink bubble-gum bubbles, twin pigtails, and ostentatious sunglasses.

And who she was, was aggressive.

Ray was the best of the best for a reason. During duelling, during sex.

_God_, Zarc thought to himself, breathless and head tilting back uncomfortably, she was wet. He could feel her arousal seep through her cheap, cotton panties. His cock lurched as he rubbed against her thrust, placid and in complete control of this situation. He felt himself dribble with precum over it as her hands inched further up his neck.

The curve of her hands bumped against Zarc’s neck. He looked unto her and in the dim light, he was seeing double. He couldn’t breathe and he didn’t want it any other way.

Ray smirked to herself. “You’re disgusting, Zarc.” she told him, warning, scolding, drinking in his arousal because it turned her on something atrocious. Yet, she chose to tease him. She took away the very thing that he loved from her…

She let go, curtly, and tugged at her underwear. She arched her back slightly so that the fabric could cling around her curves, rather than over them. Her fingers ghosted against his hot, throbbing cock and she laughed at it. Shrill and cruel. Zarc took instinctive, gulping breaths upon this release. He panted. Ached. Yearned for the severance of oxygen but instead, he drank it in.

“But, if you’re a good boy, you might get to taste my clit yet.” she told him before replacing her hands, so lovingly, to where they belonged upon Zarc’s body.

Her hands, clamped onto his throat, dug in harder. The strain should have intolerable; her muscles locked up and down her along her arms. Instead of bringing him to pain, it delivered him unto pleasure. Zarc could feel – imagine? – the vessels burst in his head. It pounded something awful as he got lost, cock straining against her gorgeous ass, in ecstasy. His eyes turned bleary. All he could see was red and purple. Her colours. The ones she looked so beautiful and royal and hateful in.

He loved it though. He _was_ disgusting. Blood-lusting and insatiable with only her to tame to him. Zarc wanted to be her good little boy but he wanted to lose his head more than taste her.


	6. Upskirt Sex

Unsurprisingly, with a skirt that dramatic, it would feel quite stiff but Yusei didn’t realise how stiff. It felt like cardboard as he got down on his knees, lifting it away so that there was room for him. The button-up mini skirt that she wore underneath it had dropped to her ankles and made a nest for Yusei’s knees. He pushed the outer skirt half aside so he could be caped by it. He drew it in, as though to cloak him and then he pushed aside what remained of her blouse, lingering and cream-coloured. As he did so, he held his breath before bringing his mouth to the lips of Aki’s vagina.

She watched carefully, chewing her lip, as Yusei was gentle with her. As he went through his motions, to prepare them both, Aki was soon just as red as her hair and as red as this skirt, so infamous and suede, as she felt Yusei’s fingers, toughened from years upon years of survival and mechanical work, tug at her panties which were silken and held in place by gorgeous, black garters. He treated her delicately. Or, perhaps, no different to how he would treat the finery of the inside of his D-Wheels. Either way, Aki didn’t mind being treated like that; it eased her budding anxiety. She trusted that Yusei would treat her well.

He tapped the side of her legs, “Pardon?” he mumbled from beneath her.

Aki allowed and obeyed. She spread apart her legs and she felt Yusei’s touch on them. His fingertips were gentle as he explored the expanse of her thighs and toyed with her underwear. He kissed her inner thigh and she felt his nose brush against her overhanging pubic hair. His kiss deepened and she felt the tip of his tongue on her. She shivered but came to welcome it.

“Allow me?”

His voice was characteristically quiet, but Aki found it charming. She kept her skirt partially hoisted up but she kind of liked to see where Yusei was. His head was draped with the front of her skirt and she found the way it poked out from underneath its concealment to be comical.

Yusei kissed Aki through her hair. He closed his eyes and he tentatively touched her. He pushed aside her bush of burgundy-coloured hair and his tongue found her quite quickly. She moaned for him, weak-kneed and embarrassed, with her face reddening. So, she hid it. Her wrist brushed up against her face, fingers flaying and flexing as Yusei began to eat her out.

His technique was calm. Chaste, even. Yet, there was an ardour to it. He wanted to love and honour her. All of her and as best as he could with his mouth alone. Willingly, from them both, Yusei brought out the more untamed elements of Aki which dwelt within herself. Her lust was elicited forth and she was unyielding with it. Yusei adored how it manifested so brightly not just within her, but outside of her. She wanted him to know; all but reaching to clutch his head hidden beneath her skirt and petticoat. So, she settled for other ways to let him know. She thrust against his face, crying out his name at the top of her lungs. She tightly clutched onto the fabric of her skirt with agony as she grinded against his mouth.

Yusei tongued Aki’s clitoris whilst he held her down. He could feel his efforts reverberate through her body. Her arousal was sweet to taste. It worked him up all the more whilst his cock strained against grease stained jeans. Soon, with just his tongue, Aki was built to climax.

She came ardently against his face. Her head tilted back, hair whipping about in cat-o-nine-tails-like swaths and she gasped. Gasped for air, for release, for more. Her heart pounded fiercely as she bucked her hips against Yusei’s face. He ate her up. His mouth unflinchingly connected to his wet cunt as she grinded it against him.

With an almost reluctance tinging his demeanour, Yusei pulled back. He disguised uneven breathing – panting – with a smile. His teeth flashed through and Aki looked down upon him. Broken momentarily from the whirl of lust that she had all but lost herself in.

“I’m not done.” she said, keeping a hand close to breath, almost scared to demand things of her very giving partner.

“Good.” he said. “I want more as well.”

Aki smiled gingerly. She sank to her knees and straddled Yusei. He moved slightly beneath her. He went from kneeling to being cross legged. Aki gave him just enough room, but she was selfish. It was mostly so she could put her hand places that it most certainly belonged. She tugged at his belt buckle and as she did so, she clumsily smashed her lips against his.

He eagerly kissed back, though. Aki tasted herself on his mouth and she found herself surprised. She liked it. Her tongue pressed onwards, and she felt Yusei hold her hips. Embrace her. Such little things, dulcet in their kindred lust, hastened her to free Yusei’s erection from beneath his tough clothes.


	7. Praise Kink

Grace was such a good little girl.

Asuka didn’t really get it but she was more than happy to indulge it. After all, what made Grace happy, made her happy and nothing made Asuka happier than to see her girlfriend – _her sub_ – smile. And goodness gracious, Grace grinned when she was all tied up.

She behaved so good for Asuka as she tied her up. The red, silken ropes slowly binding her, Asuka tugged on them and Grace giggled. Asuka rolled her eyes as she continued to doll up her beloved little Grace. Between her breasts, pinning her back, arching her forward. Grace was at the mercy of how Asuka tied her – and exactly as she specified. Her wrists were bound together, behind her back, crowning the curves of her sweet yet flat ass. Another set of ropes, short and tight, bound her ankle, coming unto neat bands to keep her still. These knots were kept separate, but Grace was treating them as though they were connected.

Asuka knelt in front of Grace and held in her hands the final piece which Grace had outlined for Asuka to do. Asuka caressed the side of Grace’s face. She was so soft. Her smile was to pretty. It was almost a shame to gag her as she requested. But, Asuka did as she had been told.

She played with Grace’s hair briefly. Her silvery tresses were so beautiful, like moonlight made real. A curt smile graced Asuka’s face, tiptoeing over her steady lips, whilst she bundled up the silk cloth.

“Open.” Asuka said.

Grace obeyed. She opened her mouth to Asuka and Asuka placed the rolled-up cloth in her mouth. She bit down silently. The corners of her lips twitched excitedly whilst Asuka wound the cloth around Grace’s head. She knotted it at the back, careful not to catch any of Grace’s stray hairs as it tumbled down her naked back.

“Now remember,” Asuka murmured, “shake your head if at any time you feel uncomfortable.”

Grace squeaked and squealed in her excitement. The noises were muffled by her gag. Her eyes glittered and that’s all Asuka needed to take heart; to watch those feline eyes of yellow to become so joyous. Asuka’s heart pounded and when her eyes, daringly, glanced downwards, she noticed that Grace’s nipples were hard. She licked her lips.

There were two tools in Asuka’s arsenal which she was permitted to use, at her own discretion, unto Grace. She was free to use them as she so chose, Grace was fine either way but Asuka was concerned one will sooner melt than the other so, she chose it. With a discrete glance sideways, Asuka selected an ice cube from the tray.

She swirled her fingers through the puddle; the ice was currently holding up well despite the time it had taken to prepare Grace for what would follow her beautiful, scarlet bondage.

Upon pinching the cube, Asuka felt her fingers numb slightly with their coolness. The ice was slimy with water, but it was reasonable. She swallowed and Grace squirmed in delighted anticipation. Asuka drew nearer and she placed the cube on the slope of Grace’s left breast, perhaps an inch away from her dusky coloured nipple.

A few droplets of water dribbled downwards and Asuka, smiling, slid the cube downwards. She noted how Grace’s body resisted the frigid cool upon such a sensitive and erogenous zone. Yet, it wasn’t a tremble of fear or the like. Quite the opposite. From the way her eyes shimmered and how her body prickled, it was beyond obvious that Grace was beside herself with delight.

And Asuka let every little expression of Grace’s catch on her eyes. She may not take sadistic delight in, but Asuka did find a little bit of pride. Grace was this excited because of her and they had barely started.

Asuka swirled the ice cube around Grace’s nipple, where it was most engorged. Scantly tracing it over and that sent her wild with desire. Her breasts bounced as she tried to touch which Asuka teased. Amused by her reactions, with a slight chuckle, Asuka pressed downward again.

Grace moaned into her gag. The softness of it did not obscure her wanton noises. If anything, the reverberations turned lewder still. Were amplified because of such silk upon her mouth.

“Good girl, Grace.” Asuka murmured as she removed the ice cube from atop of Grace’s nipple.

Grace scuffed her voice on her gag again, positively preening at being praised. Asuka beamed as she set the ice cube, now significantly smaller but not yet fully evaporated, onto the tray with its slightly bigger kin. Asuka took a breath. She gave herself – and, more importantly, Grace – a moment to reset after that round of cool.

All whilst to her right, yet other tool to use unto Grace was set patiently.

Asuka swallowed. When she decided that the time was right for them both, she picked it up by its base and she did not burn her fingers on its base like she feared she would. She had never been the child to play with matches and candles, doing stupid feats of courage; that had always been her brother but if anyone was primed to look after one such a fool in an erotic and adult setting, Asuka supposed it was her. Ever strait laced and responsible.

Grace’s eyes followed the flicker of the flame with glee. And Asuka only further sparked that anticipation when she brought the candle, lilac in colour, closer to Grace. She allowed the candle to hover over her shoulder; away from her hair. Asuka’s heart pounded as she tipped it forward. Not so close that it would endanger Grace in anyway but certainly close enough to flirt with danger.

The flame looked so dark against her bare and pale skin. The candle dripped, bit by bit, and pooled upon the boughs of Grace’s shoulder. It found her collarbones and clung there. Some streaks, bolder than others, began to slide towards her right breast before hardening. Creating an art of gentle wax upon her body. Pink burned beneath the pale purple and once more against the crimson of her ties, but it looked so maddeningly gorgeous upon Grace’s body, nonetheless.

Grace simpered. The lines of pain and pleasure blurred. Asuka’s stomach knotted. Through the gag, she couldn’t understand Grace: her grunts all the same, pith and obscure. But she took heart in the sparks in her eyes. The yellow so wide and beautiful and excited. So, Asuka trusted in Grace’s body language; knowing she could draw the line at any moment with a whip of her head.

Instead, she tipped her head back and panted beneath her silken bondage.

“That’s a very good girl, Grace.” Asuka murmured. She tentatively lifted her hand to Grace’s head. She placed it on her crown and threaded her fingers through the flop of Grace’s silver fringe. “You’re so beautiful…”

Grace moaned, melting into Asuka’s touch no different to how the ice and wax had melted unto her. She felt so wet and aroused beneath the heaviness of heat and the blur of cool and the neutral confines.

Yes, she was a very good girl. Masochistic and beautiful.


	8. Cock Worship

The look in Spectre’s eyes was positively starry. The blue swirled, quivered, as a meagre smile crossed his face in utter adoration of Ryoken as he remained on his knees. He kissed Ryoken’s cock. He began at the base of it, his lips pressing chastely against it and he closed his eyes to it. He inhaled the smell of Ryoken’s musk and seemed to revel in it, his exhale was inundated with satisfaction. Spectre’s breath was hot and heavy over Ryoken’s skin; he couldn’t help but shiver, especially when Spectre’s tongue peeked forth.

Spectre’s technique was slow. He wanted to make sure that Ryoken felt every thought that he imbued in the stroke of his tongue. He loved Ryoken so much, it permeated the whole of his state as he kissed Ryoken’s cock and went down on him, demure and simpering. It got Ryoken hot and bothered, squirming as he sat on the edge of the bed, with Spectre between his legs, speaking a language known only to them.

Them and Yusaku, who so patiently waited for his turn, so awkward and tentative. Ryoken liked to keep him in the corner of his eye, when he wasn’t closing them to Spectre, because it was difficult to parse on when Spectre had his tongue on Ryoken’s flesh. Slowly going down his length, receding, swirling his tongue about and driving him wild with his flickering technique.

Spectre took Yusaku’s hand. Yusaku flinched and Spectre sighed as he retreated. With a cruel glance sideways, Yusaku was finally given permission, silent and wordless, to touch and kiss and lick at Ryoken.

Ryoken shivered. Spectre’s technique was like a scalpel. It was precise and delicate. He knew what he was doing, and he thoroughly enjoyed it, thus he had no reservations and remained restrained as he sated himself on Ryoken’s cock. Yusaku, meanwhile, was the prodigal sledgehammer. Marred by inexperience and awkwardness to be any good on a technical level but Ryoken adored it – him – anyway. He was so sweet in how clumsy he was, licking tenderly at Ryoken’s shaft, going upwards along it.

Yusaku groaned as he tried his best to fellate Ryoken. He cringed as he felt both Ryoken and Spectre’s eyes on him. One set more lenient unto him than the other. Yet, despite a certain harshness in Spectre’s eyes, he comforted Yusaku, stroking his hand to further coax him onto Ryoken. He took the encouragement hastily as he all but choked on Ryoken’s cock. The size, the taste, the smell: it was all intimidating to Yusaku who resolved, and quite strongly at that, to ravish Ryoken the best that he could with his tongue.

Yusaku placed his other hand, the one which hadn’t been commandeered by Spectre, on Ryoken’s thigh. He shivered slightly at Yusaku’s touch. Ryoken was so warm, Yusaku swirled his thumb around, unthinkingly, distractedly, as his tongue mimicked; the same direction on Ryoken’s cock as on the inner of his thigh. Made curious, Spectre purred. He was intrigued by the nearly microscopic interactions between his partners. So, he followed suit.

He placed his hand on Ryoken’s other thigh as well. His squeeze on Yusaku’s hand strengthened and Yusaku drew back. A thread of saliva hung between his reddened lips and Ryoken’s cockhead. He threw a discrete glare towards Spectre who simply adored how such green eyes pierced him. They were so wrongly possessive. It was adorable.

Thus, Spectre leaned in and he kissed the side of Ryoken’s shaft. His cheek bumping up against Yusaku. The fleeting contact not unlike rocks of flint sparking against one another. Spectre murmured sweetly and that technique of his from before – slow, gradual, precise – unravelled and gave way to a grotesque haste. Yusaku also shifted. He became more aggressive, teeth clinking against Ryoken’s cock. It was a slight pinch which spooked him at first but as Yusaku became more daring, it became something which hurt Ryoken in only a good way; he melted into it, sighing and groaning as he took both Yusaku and Spectre’s mouth upon them. Their hands clinging desperately onto him – and each other.

Ryoken revelled in it. To have them both on their knees, at once, was sublime. A worship the likes of which they could never get him to accept in speech alone. But with just their tongues, one which Ryoken was willing to lap up in rhapsody.


	9. Filming

Jack had a body which was made to be watched. Carly had eyes which were made to watch.

Now, Carly wasn’t a voyeur by any stretch of the imagination. She was too clumsy for that. Inelegant and bumbling. Yes, she had no finesse to be the stranger on the corner, keeping a close eye of things better left turned away from. Though, she did get her kicks from those sorts of ideas, scenarios, videos, Carly liked it better to be up close and personal.

And Jack was the greatest model – toy – of all in that regard.

When she had her hands on the right device, in this case a handheld recorder with a flickering red eye, and Carly was nearly a different person. Though, that wasn’t entirely accurate. The parts of her which simpered, both in her heart and her loins, became amplified all because of how Velcro slipped over her hand how hard plastic felt against her palm. The glass lens, thick, shined: both down the barrel of her camera and across her face, in the spiral of her trifocals.

Jack liked it though. Liked being beneath her, sprawled out as handsome and posed as he could be but since coming to fame, he seemed to perform, even when the cameras weren’t looking, even in the decline of his fame, Jack had found it difficult to kick the habit. It was a startling and vain paranoia. Eyes everywhere and forever recording. Remembering everything about him. He hated it. And he loved it too.

Staring down Carly’s barrel, there was nowhere that Jack would rather be. He licked his lips and he felt his blood rush red hot in his veins. He gave a buck of his hips which Carly rode out smoothly. She clicked her tongue, annoyed that her camera jarred briefly but her eyes caught everything, clean and pristine. That’s what mattered. Her electronic memory was secondary.

Jack’s body turned silver and gold on film before crystallising once more, becoming a full-bodied view on the recording. In the harsh lights that Carly had set up around them, he was as unnatural as he could be, to accentuate his godliness. His hard body and to allow every muscle to be viewed, even in the dip of the own shadows that Carly produced by looming over him, leering and licking her own lips. Her lusting camera catching every glint of Jack’s teeth or eyes as he performed for her.

He writhed beneath Carly. His bare hips were sharp, his chin sharper. His hair was a mess. Carly knew all his good sides. And his bad sides. But there was little difference in this scene bleached of reality and darkness. There was only the camera and the camera loved Jack. Maybe more so than Carly loved Jack.

Carly had watched enough of her preferred porn – amateur, snuff, voyeuristic – to know exactly what she wanted from Jack. Her legs, waxed and slender, framed his body, making him even larger than life by comparison. Plus, the perspective shot rendered her irrelevant, how she liked it, and brought the audience in which is exactly what she desired. All she wanted was to admire others and to amplify their brilliance. This was the perfect way to do it.

The angle changes there, a lingering shot here, moving the camera so slowly up and down… Carly knew that she could recreate the masterpiece which was Jack Atlas on an even grander scale. One truly befitting of the king that he was. Made to be adored by all. By her specifically. Her and her cute little camera.

Jack found it adorable how such a little device could elicit so much confidence from Carly. There was nothing more that she prided herself on was her eyes which she hid away from the world beneath those glasses. Jack found it endearing but her artistic eye was even prettier. When she threw herself towards her passions, he couldn’t help but be aroused by the way she straddled him, keeping him in line, submissive, demure. No doubt that for the next stretch of their film, it’d switch. She’d go beneath and it would all be about his aggressive but for now, for her private collection, she wanted the camera to domineer him.

And honestly, Jack couldn’t care either way. So long as he was tangled up with her, nothing could be better. He wanted, so badly, to be her muse: her one and only, on film and in the bed and on the streets.

Looking up at her, he got hard. She was weary silky, boyleg panties and the ribboned bra to match: orange of it shimmered with her blinding, studio lights. Erasing the shadows beneath the rolls of her love handles on her hips but doing little to flatten her pudgy little belly which poked over the hem of her underwear. The way her charcoal black hair cascaded down her back. She was gorgeous and Jack liked to watch her watching him.

And she certainly didn’t shy away from capturing his erection on camera. He may have been the spectacle, but it was, ultimately, all for her. His nakedness, his smiles, the way his eyes would so coyly catch on the lens in lewd game.

The camera watched him so greedily. Just as Jack greedily watched Carly just as Carly planned greedily what she would do with these illicit videos. After all, Jack was made to be admired.


	10. Massage

“It’d probably do you some good if you could decipher the Ignis language, y’know, Kusanagi-chan, if you wanna learn our algorithms that bad.” Ai said with a shrug.

“Didn’t you say it’s literally unpronounceable to humans?” Kusanagi replied. “Something about our tongues and voice boxes being too primitive to make the sounds?”

“Well, yes, but there are certain tics I think you could find helpful.” Ai said.

Kusanagi mulled it over. He supposed the Ignis were no difference to regular coders. They all had their tics too. Certain ways of wording things and preferences and whatnot. He sighed. It couldn’t hurt.

“Alright. I’ll bite. Give me some lessons.” Kusanagi said as he typed away at his keyboard; somewhere in the back of his mind, he was worried the clickity clack of the keys might be disturbing Yusaku who was taking a nap in the modified closet, but it was pretty soundproof in there. So long as he and Ai kept their voices down, Yusaku should be fine to nap away as he pleased.

Ai’s eyes squished smugly. “Oh, you’re going to love this, I can tell you’re going to be a fine student, Kusanagi-chan.” Ai gushed.

Kusanagi huffed.

“Um… Hm… Where to start…? Well, like you and Yusaku speak slightly differently, so do us Ignis in our native language.” Ai began. “Let’s take Flame for instance. He has a real thing for acronyms and anagrams. It’s very show-off-y. But, like, my buddy the Earth Ignis? He’s way more to the point. He’s very precise. You could not get any blunter than him! Er, well, actually, maybe you could. Our fearless leader, the Light Ignis, is quite precise too but he’s not necessarily blunt, per se. There’s an artistic quality to how he writes, it’s like poetry. But it’s not lovey-dovey poetry like how the Water Ignis writes. Unsurprisingly the sole girl of our group is quite the girly girl. She has a very cute way of writing, she tends to code pictograms of flowers and the like into her algorithms, it’s very clever. Though, she doesn’t like the pictograms that say, I or the Wind Ignis code into our algorithms.”

“Uh-huh…” Kusanagi chewed on Ai’s reply. He rambled a lot, but he thinks that he followed. “And what kind of pictograms are we talking? Drawings of dicks?”

“Exact-a-mundo, Kusanagi-chan.” Ai replied.

Kusanagi choked on his laughter. “Really?”

“There’s something inherently hilarious about human penises.” Ai shrugged. “But, yeah, I got scolded a lot for adding crude or vulgar messages into my algorithms. The Wind Ignis thought it was funny, anyway.”

“Go on then.” Kusanagi said. “Tell me an Ignis dick joke.”

Ai cackled and he swivelled around in Yusaku’s Duel Disc. “Oh, Kusanagi-chan, I can do way more than that. I could dirty talk you if I so wanted to.”

Kusanagi guffawed. “Go on then, short stuff.”

“With pleasure…” Ai purred.

Ai then proceeded to whirr off all kinds of noises. They were terrible, heinous noises which varied from old school dial-up internet noises to printer-like beeps to things which sounded like the godforsaken offspring of fireworks and tinnitus. Some were more tolerable than others but for the most part, all the noises emanating from Ai were like nails on a chalkboard for Kusanagi’s ears.

It was terrible. He really didn’t know why he was getting hard under the counter over it. His cheeks flushed and Ai noticed.

His laughter changed. Became more human. “Oh, ho, ho, what is this, Kusanagi-chan? Getting a bit hot’n’bothered, are we?”

“No.” Kusanagi lied but the way his breath hissed around his decisive word only served to dress it more obviously as a falsehood.

Ai’s cheeks were quick to turn streaky with pink stripes. “Oh, don’t be so modest. I have quite the knack for it.”

“For all I know, you coulda been telling me how to make porridge just then.” Kusanagi said, scoldingly.

Ai giggled. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Kusanagi-chan. But I can think of plenty of things I would do.”

Kusanagi frowned. He found it weird how Ai would flirt with him. He was pretty sure that he was playing games, trying to be annoying and get under his skin but fuck, it was working and Kusanagi would have preferred if it wasn’t. He tried to remain calm though despite the beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face in this grease trap of a truck and despite how his cock throbbed between his legs. He kept fixating on those noises. They were dirty and unknown, and he liked it way more than if someone had been speaking French, or some other romantic language, to him.

Kusanagi swallowed. He decided, against his better judgement, that he would take the bait. Surely it couldn’t escalate further. It was Ai. He was stupidly tiny and stupid in general.

“Alright then. Tell me.” Kusanagi said.

“With pleasure.” Ai told him with a wink.

Ai reeled off all those noises again. Kusanagi’s breathing changed slightly as he listened to these godawful noises which really did his head in and really made his blood rush. Ai revelled in these little micro expressions Kusanagi was doing well to hide beneath the façade of working hard. It was so adorable.

Ai couldn’t believe how easy it was to get Kusanagi wrap around his little finger. So, he pressed on. He knew better than morph into his more monstrous form and to take the human here; after all, Yusaku could wake up at any time so, he found other ways to take the man.

He propped himself up as he sat down, languidly, and opened up his legs to Kusanagi. From the corner of his eye, Kusanagi regarded Ai warily and the whine in Ai’s Ignis language shifted slightly. Became more petulant, bratty, wanting. The noises rang in the inner of Kusanagi’s ear.

Ai patted the inner of his smooth thigh. “C’mon, Kusanagi-chan,” Ai pouted, “I want attention. I’m feelin’ used and abused here, just yammering away from your entertainment, give me tit for tat.”

Kusanagi swallowed. He hesitated but he couldn’t find himself focusing on his work decoding the algorithms that Ai had made for him as homework anymore. So, one hand made it under the table, palming his erection, and the other made it to Ai. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the way Ai stroked his fingers was certainly something.

Ai guided Kusanagi’s index finger to his crotch. His hand was nearly as big as the entire Ignis and Ai was happy to take advantage of that rather than feel emasculated by it. He nuzzled into Kusanagi’s palm and coaxed him to action.

Kusanagi’s heart – and hard-on – throbbed. With his fingertip, he rubbed over the base of Ai’s body, between his legs. He didn’t have anything down there, no ridges to indicate internal genitals but it seemed to be a highly effective erogenous zone nonetheless down there. He had a rubbery feeling to him. It was weird and plasticky but too soft for that. Perhaps more like silicon. Ai cooed in his Ignis language and the noises resonated hard, grating, in Kusanagi’s ears.

Ai grinded on his finger and Kusanagi slipped a second one in there. He massaged Ai’s underside, between his legs and thighs and occasionally curling up to his little backside as well. Ai wriggled and writhed at Kusanagi’s touch. He wasn’t exactly deft with his fingers, but Ai was certainly enjoying the massage, eager to please and be pleased.

And all whilst Kusanagi petted Ai’s chassis, he didn’t neglect himself either. He grunted beneath his breath as he played with his cock through the layers of his clothing. Already, Kusanagi felt his underwear grow wet with precum. Brought to such lust as he listened to Ai’s noises with ardent attention. Ai’s dirty talk was atrocious, but he was lapping it up, as painful as it was. He couldn’t believe that he was getting off to it, but he was, and he was getting off something bad to it.

Minutes passed, hard and fast, and from his fingers alone, Kusanagi brought Ai to climax. Kusanagi’s wrist ached from all the rolling motions but the technique was irrelevant, he was just chuffed that he had managed to impact the Ignis as he had. His little orgasm was bizarre to have watched unfolded. The way his body quivered and trembled. Not to mention, his rollicking noises which grinded on Kusanagi’s ear, leaving them ringing with something worse than tinnitus.

Ai sank into the screen of Yusaku’s Duel Disc. He was panting, somewhat exaggerated, but even Kusanagi was breathless after all that. Ai’s dirty talking, whirring and robotic, fizzled out. His shoulders slumped back, and he looked positively dishevelled. There was a lewd gleam in his yellow eyes though; eyes which Kusanagi refused to acknowledge. If Ai had lips, he would no doubt be licking them.

“Well…” he said. “What did you think of that?”

Kusanagi coughed into his hand, embarrassed. “It was good.”

“Bet I can do you one more.” Ai said, teasing. “Bet I could do real good things-”

The door to Playmaker’s booth slammed open. “Do what, exactly?” Yusaku snapped.

Kusanagi’s eyes widened in surprise. All of Ai’s flirtatious bravado was cut off in the echo of the door slamming against the wall.

“What in the world were you two doing? I couldn’t sleep.” Yusaku snapped.

“N-Nothing important. Vocab lessons.” Kusanagi said.

Yusaku squinted and he drew in closer. He sat beside Kusanagi. “Uh-huh…” he murmured, disbelieving. “Well, after all that… vocabulary lessons, I’m sure you must be getting very good at understanding the Ignis Algorithms. Why don’t you show me your progress then?” His voice was irate yet stern: almost tranquil in his barely hidden fury.

“Yeah, show ‘im, Kusanagi-chan.” Ai piped up.

“Too easy. No problem…” Kusanagi stuttered as he flexed his hands. Both ached dully but not as much as bad as his now rather neglected cock…


	11. Medical Play

Doctor Kyoko “Baira” Taki was not a surgeon. She could not impress that upon Ema enough. Her area of expertise was elsewhere. She was broader than what her steady hand may imply. Neuroscience was her passion, first and foremost. Followed by computer science. She also dabbled as a general practitioner and a few other things, but she was not a surgeon.

She did not cut people up. She did not stitch them back together again. She put people to sleep yes and she analysed them like they were strands upon strands of code, yes, but she wasn’t a surgeon. She didn’t wish she was a surgeon either. It sounded too sanctimonious for her. To be on the edge of life and death, to act as the hands of God: she had done it once and it wasn’t for her.

Not to mention her disposition, at least when it came to fantasy, she preferred it painful. She couldn’t do it. It would be amoral rather than altruistic, to cut people up, even to fix them, because she would get her fix as well.

Ema found that amusing.

Though, not as amusing as Kyoko’s utter distaste for sexy nurse and doctor outfits but despite her initial abrasion, she decided that it was give and take. If Ema could indulge her unusual ritual, then she could get over herself and join in on the mockery of her very serious medical profession. Though, honestly, Kyoko was more insulted by the fact that only nurse costumes were available in short skirts and tight shirts; according to the makers of these atrocities, female doctors did not exist.

Regardless, sexism and other discourses aside, Ema thought Kyoko looked stunning. She wore a two-piece outfit, a blindingly white – and cheap – white skirt and jacket combo, the jacket of which tied up in front to accentuate her bust. Underneath, she wore a dull, fuchsia coloured bra with black detailing themed around tendrils and vines. Further down, her panties, and ass, were barely hidden by that skirt, her black garters were more than revealed and seemed proud to hold up her white, thigh-high socks. And that was to say nothing of the high heels that she was skulking around in; crimson with a killer heel. Ema wouldn’t mind being beneath those…

Suffice to say, from tip to toe, all of Kyoko’s best angles were sharpened by the costume that she donned for Ema’s entertainment. From there, she was ready to begin her operation on her wonderful patient who felt woefully underdressed for the occasion, wearing only the Emperor’s lingerie. That is to say, nothing at all.

Leering over her, with a face mired with deep concentration, not so much arousal, Kyoko began her work on Ema. Ema squirmed slightly. The tip of the pen was cold on her abdomen but glancing down over her nakedness made it easier. She admired Kyoko’s hands. Pale, sleight, manicured but the nails were painted a garish blend of plum and crimson. Ultimately, in their somewhat humble beauty, they really were doctor’s hands. She would have been a fantastic surgeon, in Ema’s belief in anyway. She truly felt that she was in such steady and capable hands.

Kyoko’s fingers were elegant as she pinched a black marker. It wasn’t permanent but it was certainly thick and bold, washable apparently, but it certainly felt it. Ema was certainly looking forward to a post-coital bath later but for now, she was Kyoko’s dear and precious patient. Her subject to study and annotate as she saw fit.

She drew the tip of her felt-tipped pen over Ema’s body. Kyoko revelled in all of Ema’s uniqueness imbued into her very beautiful body at Kyoko’s disposal. From every roll of Ema’s love handles to the shallow dimples along the sides of her large thighs and the slight pudge at the bottom of her belly to her somewhat toned abdomen. It was obvious that she worked hard and played harder. She was the perfect canvas for Kyoko to desire. All which hid within her flesh, Kyoko desired rather placidly to excavate it. Instead, all she could do was draw her gory plans which she could never bring to bloody fruition.

Kyoko’s stroke work on Ema’s body was nothing short of masterful. The lines that she drew perfectly dotted and coiled around where Ema’s organs were buried in her flesh. She traced her breasts, marvelling at how languid they were and how relaxed Ema was as Kyoko straddled her, grinding against her, best trying to rouse them both in this play. Ema happily moved her legs so Kyoko could get up close and personal but her grey eyes hardened.

“Naughty…” Kyoko scolded Ema and enacted a curt punishment onto her. Kyoko slapped the side of Ema’s thigh with a somewhat gentle strike, all things considered.

Ema giggled. She wasn’t used to being the one who had to behave. Thus, impishness sparkled in her eye, but she stilled herself. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt Kyoko’s process and thereby disturb what was undoubtedly lovely brushwork. Once Ema relaxed again, Kyoko continued, grinding once more, her silk panties against Ema’s cunt which was slowly getting wetter.


	12. Dacryphilia (Crying)

If there was one thing that Crow couldn’t stand, it was people crying. From strangers to friends, Crow hated waterworks. He, himself, was a hard nut to crack. Though, that was thanks to his neglected upbringing in Satellite. And it was thanks to that upbringing again that he couldn’t stand by and let someone cry and bawl their eyes out. Friends, strangers, adults, kids: Crow was stupidly proactive when it came to tears. Though, there were tiers.

An adult was difficult, but they tended to know what they needed or wanted. Not to mention, hid it way better, especially in the circles that Crow ran in. But children were a different story. They loved the attention and how it felt to let their too big emotions run rampant and wild in their too little bodies. Watching them was hard, though. They needed to learn to toughen up, but Crow was forever a softie. He didn’t find stoicism fair.

So yeah, kids, in particular but girl kids, in general, were even worse. But at the top of how many things could Criss cross and make Crow ache with guilt and the need to do something about someone crying was seeing a girl friend, a friend who just so happens to be a girl, cry and right now, Aki was bawling her black rose heart out.

He hasn’t meant to run into Aki. He didn’t think that she would be in the neighbourhood for whatever reason. Though, considering how much time she, and everyone else, spent at his and the gang’s place, maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising. But it had been. Surprising enough to cause Crow to come to a skidding halt on the back of Blackbird. He had been cruising around the blocks, he just had to get away and back to a simpler time. Riding was his second favourite pastime, but he couldn’t enjoy it knowing that Aki was in trouble.

She was holding herself up against a lamppost. Crow and their’s place just a few doors down. It didn’t look right to Crow, so he pulled up in a flail of heavy smoke and burning rubber.

“Want a lift back to yours?”

Aki nodded. She was all snotty nosed and red eyed and with hot tears down her slick cheeks. She looked horrendous to say the least.

She boarded stiffly and Crow kicked off. He took her home and he felt weird crossing over into Tops, but the physical division was no longer there, but he reeked of poverty. The grandness of it all made him uncomfortable, doubly so when people in his position base him hello and let him inside with Aki in tow. She held his hand and poked at her eyes, sniffling.

They wound up in her bedroom. It was in a weird, late transition from childhood to adolescence, kind of like how Aki was transitioning from adolescence to adulthood. So, it was a mishmash if all her interests by stylised in the empty (minimalistic) way that rich people liked. Crow didn’t like it. The emptiness made it odd, impersonal, it wasn’t busy enough for his eyes which forever scanned for the next treasure as much as the next threat.

Aki collapsed on her bed. Crow pulled up a chair from her desk. Everything she owned was so ornate and beautiful.

“You wanna tell me what happened…?”

“...He dumped me.”

Crow’s brow twinged. “Who… dumped you?”

“He didn’t dump me.” Aki groaned, changing her story and reefing herself from her soft bed. “He rejected me. Yusei, did.”

“Oh.” Crow mumbled, eyes widening.

He had heard rumours from unreliable sources, namely Ruka and Rua, that Aki might have a crush on Yusei. When it came to complex matters of the heart, Crow was too simple. His heart quivered. No wonder Aki was so miserable.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Crow regretfully asked, tentative in the way his heart pounded, and palms sweated.

Aki looked into him. Her eyes looked huge in her crisis. She swallowed and licked her lips. The colour on them ruined, even smeared.

“I want,” Aki began, murmured then hiccupped, “I want to have sex. With you.” Her voice was sultry in only a way crying girls could be.

“O-Oh.” Crow felt his limp dick throb in his lap.

He didn’t think it was right or appropriate, but he was Crow Hogan. And Crow Hogan was a man who could never turn down a damsel in distress because he hated seeing girls cry and the type who couldn’t leave such things alone. He almost felt preyed upon by Aki who waited for his reply, her brown eyes watching, hands demurely in front of her: a tear-soaked seduction of a broken heart.

“Sure.” Crow helplessly told her and before he knew it, he was pulled onto the bed.

Aki was surprisingly voracious. She tore off his clothes and let her drying tears shimmer on her cheeks, but it was, for the most part, a facade. First his jacket and then his shirt and then, perhaps most importantly, his pants. Crow was just a leaf in the wind which was her hurricane and he kind of liked it.

Aki pulled him onto her, and she knew exactly what she wanted. She was all but a completely different person; not entirely, Crow had glimpsed these sides of her before, who she normally was beneath a mask, she could now be with all decency discarded. It was kind of hot, Crow found, and he wouldn’t even consider himself submissive.

She smashed her lips onto his and he kissed back, slow to her quickening fury. She held him around his hips, her nails digging in and their teeth clicked against one another as they kissed. Crow grinded against her. His cock hardening and slowly finding her beneath her clothes.

Crow awkwardly fondled at her clothes. Aki released her grip on him, and she helped him find her way. She pushed up her skirts and tugged down her garters and underwear. Crow slipped in between her legs, messy and laden with all these gorgeous, and expensive, fabrics. His cock rubbed against her thighs, she clamped down and bucked against him. Crow’s heart hammered and he pushed once more against her, knees digging into the mattress which didn’t even move as they had at each other as roughly as they could go in their haste.

He ghosted her cunt, not yet ready to penetrate her, all whilst kissing her. Something by which Aki was completely frantic regarding but where there were terrible gusts and anger, there was to be lashing rain. That’s what Crow knew. He had all the sensibilities of a bird, after all. Aki’s pace began to peter out. The way she held onto him so viciously weakened.

The noises which had been so feeble between Aki’s lips turned to something else. Before, she had grunted with arousal, a few pants here and there but as she slowed, allowed Crow to be on top of her, doing all the work, Aki wept once more. She laid atop her doona cover, arms spread apart, Crow atop of her receding back with kiss swollen lips and an even redder cock, and her eyes watered. She bawled.

“It’s hard, yeah?” Crow murmured, not sure what to say. He grimaced slightly. “Having your heart broken.” He tried not to think about how Divine had treated her, that was definitely influencing her; no wonder she was taking Yusei’s rejection of her feelings so hard…

“Mm.” Aki was choked up.

“So,” Crow clicked his tongue, and as he looked down on her, bawling her eyes out, he couldn’t help but find it kinky, “just take it all out on me.”

“W-With pleasure.”

Aki pulled Crow down into a fierce embrace. She hugged him tight, they were chest to chest and their mouths met again. She locked her hands over his back and Crow finally put her to rest with a great buck of his hips. She gasped and her whole body tensed as she felt his cock enter her. Her fingers slipped away from each other, but she resisted. She raked her nails over Crow’s sides; leaving red trails razed in his skin.

It hurt like hell for them both, but for different reasons. Crow kissed her anyway. There was nothing he couldn’t do for a girl who was crying. He’d easily fuck Aki to pleasure and back if it dried her eyes but right now, Crow didn’t want her to stop the water works. That was something he would never have thought that he would ever think or want but the wet, salty kisses, desperate and loathing, was something that he could get addicted to.


	13. Age-play

Spectre was a mummy’s boy.

Spectre would be the first to admit such a thing. He even readily admitted it. As a child, he was made fun of due to this trait of his. It was one of the many reasons that he was isolated from his peers at the orphanage, but he had long since made his peace with this seeming flaw of his. He certainly did not view it in such a foul light.

He adored his Mother; he couldn’t help it.

All he wanted was simplicity. To feel the warmth of maternal love, that’s all Spectre truly desired. The little moments in between would have been nice, too. He wanted to rest at her trunk and to talk about his day with her. He wanted her to wipe the tears from his eyes when he spoke of things which made him sad and he wanted to see her rustle with joy when he shared the things which filled him with cheer. He wanted her to take care of him, with that gentle, motherly love that she was so filled with. Even when it gave him an erect-

Was it wrong to love his Mother?

She was beautiful, after all. Her pleasantly green branches reached the heavens. Her hold was gentle and the shadows she produced were soft and dappled. She was so strong and protective. The face within her, glimpsed once every so often, was eerie and kind. Spectre could have slept at her roots for all eternity. What a peaceful fate that would have been.

Instead, she was taken from him.

And so cruelly at that. Hacked away, felled. Taken. Perhaps for wood, perhaps because she had become a danger to that meadow in her ancient age. Whatever the reason, Spectre could see no justification because of how it had broken his heart. Splintered, it really.

He visited her, on occasion. When it was safe to do so. Seeing her in such a dishevelled state, even all these years later, broke his heart all over again but it was important to mourn, to grieve. He talked to her about his loyalty to Ryoken and about the chores that he did. Spectre would empty his heart to what remained of his dear Mother but, when he was done, when he would bid her farewell, the solace that it brought him gave him the strength to continue on without her.

But, when it was not safe to visit, Spectre did have a safe haven where he could indulge his desire – his absolute need – for maternal love.

He had fantasy, yes. The imagination inside his head was all well and good. But there was some place else. Somewhere far more visceral in which he could sate himself. His Mother may have passed on, but she still had an avatar somewhere in this world.

Prior to entering that little, white room, becoming one of those experimented upon during the Hanoi Project, Spectre had had little interested in Duel Monsters. After all, it took two to play and no one wished to play with weird, little Spectre. Even then, he had been given cards the likes of which he didn’t hold the strongest fondness for. But, upon becoming a Knight of Hanoi, he had been given something special in consolidation.

It had been Ryoken who had been so kind as to introduce Spectre to the Sunvine-Sunavalon archetype.

But it truly was the perfect archetype for Spectre. He was of the belief that slow and steady won the race. Their designs and play style were impeccable. He adored all the cards associated with that deck and refused to use anything but was his ace that he adored best of all out of all those precious cards. She was like a reincarnation of his Mother; an avatar for her in this world of games and digitality.

So, logging into the Link VRAINS from the privacy of his own quarters on the escape yacht, he needed some time to himself. It had been a few weeks since the fall of the Tower of Hanoi, but it had been an insufferable streak of strategizing and understanding mortality and plenty more other things begging his concern. Between it all, he kept having nightmares of those moments after his Duel with Playmaker. Seeing his Mother go down in flames, again and again, he needed to seek her comfort. He needed to know that she was alright, especially now that the Link VRAINS had finally returned to operation.

Simply put, Spectre needed to escape the yacht.

Closing his eyes, saying those words, and Spectre found himself in the base again. He cloaked himself so that his own comrades wouldn’t be able to detect himself unless they physically checked up on him. From there, Spectre disappeared once more, from the angular shadows and green lasers.

Hidden in the network, associated with the Hanoi Headquarters was a place Spectre had made for his own, personal use. It had started as an exercise to better his skills as a hacker. Unlike Ryoken, he had not been taught from near birth to be able to use a computer, to understand its parts and software. Thus, it had been something of a project for Spectre to use to hone his skills. Since becoming a good coder and whatnot in his own right, he had kept the little hideaway, barricading it away from those whom would never dream to pry and prettying it up over the years.

Thus, resulting in a paradise for his purpose and his purpose alone.

And, unsurprisingly, this paradise took the form of a great and ornate forest. Though, given that he was its sole caretaker, perhaps garden was more accurate. Circular, in circumference with vividly grass underfoot. A perpetual breeze softly blew through here, rustling foliage and petals alike though not so strong as to toy with Spectre’s hair or clothes. He wandered through it, passing perfectly sculpted iterations of real-life plants.

At the very epicentre of this special place, which Spectre slowly walked through, wishing desperately that it was real, was a clearing. He considered erecting a tribute to his Tree Mother here a few times. He remembered her so clearly, after all. It would be easy to carve her likeness into the data of this place, but Spectre had elected otherwise. Cosying up to her avatar, her reincarnation, which he saw in Sunavalon Dryatrentiay was one thing but creating such a replica seemed even more blasphemous.

Spectre lingered in the middle of his meadow. He closed his eyes and felt the wind on his face. It was all so… synthetic. Artificial. Things happened on loops and repeat as he saw fit to craft. He wished, desperately, that it could be real but, alas.

Instead, he would merely have to make do. He lifted his wrist to his chest. He plucked cards from his Duel Disc. With each grab at these nebulous cards, Spectre’s heart beat quickened. He was quick to construct a field, so much easier by himself, which would allow him to bring forth his beloved.

In front of him, red arrows combined and clinked: sparkling in the synthetic sunlight just overhead. From within glassy depths of the circuit, she rose. She towered before him and her howl sent shivers down his spine. Spectre came to grin ear to ear.

He put away his Duel Disc, his vaguely sore arm returning to his side, and Spectre slowly approached her, eyes watering and arms lifting up; a desperate ask for an embrace gone unspoken and met quite fondly. Tentacles unwound from within the foliage that she possessed. She petted the top of Spectre head before they travelled down his body. Snaking around him and hugging him where he stood.

He sighed into it. Her touch was so important to him. It was delicate and gentle. He melted into it. He held the tip of her tentacle, though it was more like a root. It was barky and slightly coarse to the touch. Slightly wet too, with a sap that she secreted. Spectre kissed her, as gentlemanly as he could. But his emotions betrayed him.

He had to choke back sobs. He was so glad – _so glad_ – that she was safe. It had been terrifying, horrifying, to see her go down in flames like that. His stomach wretched at the mere thought of it. At least, however briefly, he had been with her. Surely that would have eased such a loss.

Spectre didn’t want to admit but he had been ruminating on his loss to Playmaker far too frequently. He was jealous. And with news of that Soulburner person surfacing, that jealousy grew thicker in his heart yet. He wanted his Ignis. He wanted to know what it was like, but it had yet to seek him out, even. But, to distract himself from such thoughts, unbecoming of a Knight of Hanoi, their second in command, Spectre had taken to watching and re-watching Revolver duel; specifically, his final duel against Playmaker at the crown of their now fallen Tower. In it, there were sparks. The Extra Link… it was so beautiful and powerful.

If the opportunity came, Spectre would love to have Sunavalon Dryatrentiay at the centrepiece of a duel in which he possessed all of the monster zones and the Extra Link. But, until such a time came, he would content himself with what he had right now. His Mother’s love and this private place just for themselves.

He felt queasy in the way only a virgin could be unto the thought of sex. His Mother noticed and her tentacles slowly unwound from Spectre, receding cautiously so that he had space. Spectre dragged a finger down his sternum and the outfit of his avatar fell away, pixel by blue and yellow pixel.

Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s embrace was soon to return to around Spectre. Her tentacles wound down his body, firmly locking around him and supporting him. He sighed into it and he was swept off his feet by it. Cradled in her loving caresses and brought closer. Spectre never felt safer than when he was in her arms. She brought him to her face, and he reached out.

He stroked her hair, the barky tresses which fell around the near human body embedded in her trunk. Her purple foliage discoloured the sunlight and shadows overhead, further amplifying the beauty that he saw in her crimson eyes and sharp teeth. He toyed with the ends of her hair, kissing it through unto his knuckles. Her coo was quiet, and he liked it.

She rocked him like the baby that he was. He snuggled into it, his wood throbbing between his legs, all bundled up and close to his chest. He couldn’t help himself, he just felt so secure and content all curled up, foetal like. He kept one hand close to his chest and the other, he held closer to his face, fingers curled in save for his thumb which he came to suck. Over his face, he felt the artificial breath of his forest. It was so soothing, lulling him to something like sleep but it was a far sweeter and more satisfying pleasure than any dream the neurons in his brain could likely concoct in their random firing.

Spectre nuzzled his face against her tentacles and against the petals which was nestled into beneath the guard of bark which protected her, but also propped her up as though she were throned. From there, she looked down upon him gracefully. A smile crossed Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s face as her precious child was so affectionate with her. It enticed her to be affectionate back. Her little boy, as eccentric as he was, deserved a treat. Her tentacles continued to slither around his body.

Poking against his backside, she secreted yet more sap which aided in her penetration of him. Spectre whimpered as he was very slowly penetrated by the tip of her tentacle. She was so hard and so wet, it was difficult, but he liked it. She rocked him still, cooing at him, waving at him with the leaves attached to her gorgeous branches. Spectre was settled by it and her plunging tentacle grew more explorative yet.

Spectre writhed in his Mother’s embrace, moaning and calling her name was she further plunged her tentacle through his anus. Rocking it back and forth inside of him, sometimes drawing it outwards to hear him croon and then to return inwards once more. It was a slow thing to a knowable rhythm and Spectre adored every, gradual second of it.

Sunavalon Dryatrentiay brought him to the brink of euphoria and paused. She edged him by settling herself. Her branches creaking as her tentacles ceased their movements over his body. He whimpered over his suckled thumb, he opened his eyes and the desperation was palatable – as palatable as it could be to highly complex animated program – and he begged for release.

She blithely cooed at him and his made his heart soar. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay rocked Spectre once more. Then, not only did she penetrate him so gently with her tentacle, another one slithered up, laced his testicles and coiled around his wood. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay jerked him off slowly and Spectre’s toes flexed. He groaned, grimacing but it became a beautifully hideous beam, and his wood all but erupted in the moments following. He made a mess of himself, mostly. He came against his thighs, in front of him, as he was cradled by his dearest.

Satisfaction lingered in the moment. The sunlight was warm over them both, crowning them, and then clouds drifted over. With a sigh, Spectre was then let down. When his bare feet touched the grass, he truly did believe that he felt their delicate cuts on his flesh. A shiver went down his spine. Spectre took a breath and a cascade of pixels overcame his body; his clothes returned to him. His head felt airy, dreamy, and he looked up with an oddly serene expression.

Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s smile back onto him was gracious and beautiful. Spectre was truly blessed to have such a wonderful Mother; one who indulged him so preciously like that. He was truly glad that she was safe, and the flames of her destruction were only kept to Spectre’s fears and nightmares. Here, in this place of his own creation, he could protect her like she protected him. She was so kind and that was to say nothing of her outward beauty, draped in crimson roses and bedecked by lovely black hair. It was a shame, even post-orgasm, that such lovely things could not last forever. He didn’t want Master Ryoken or the others getting suspicious.

Spectre logged out and he breathed anew, inside the musty yacht, but at least he had his Mother. He truly did love her, and he vowed to kiss her card good night later. He had no doubt in his mind that such a thing would act as a charm against any nightmares which might encroach on his mind as they continued to travel to rescue Baira.


	14. Window/Balcony Sex

The thing about being King was that you could do whatever you want, when you want.

If Jack wanted to have sex, he would have it and if he wanted it in a risqué location, then so be it. And, being endeared to him as he was, Yusei wasn’t the type to say no. Especially given that the hotel was, all things considered, quite secluded.

They had entered a Duelling competition in the next city or two over in a place called Heartland. The place was as enormous as it was beautiful. By the gentle cover of night, it was a place of great jubilance and lights. Everything would be lit up in sparkling, prismatic colours and it all emanated from its central pride: the great Tower of Heartland. But it wasn’t night; not yet at least, it was barely afternoon and it was a brisk one at that. Though, even the days in Heartland were spectacular; the people were jovial, and the days seemed to be brimming with hope and cheer. It was hard not to feel like it was an ever-ongoing party here; it was a good atmosphere, Jack liked it especially.

The hotel that they were staying at was gorgeous. It was fancy as hell and could put some places around New Domino City and Tops to shame. Best of all, competitors were free to stay here unless they wanted to make other plans. Given that Jack and Yusei were still living in a garage, for all intents and purposes, they leapt at the chance to get used to some pretty sweet digs.

From the moment they had dropped their bags at the door at the beginning of the week, they knew that they were going to have a great time. The beds had linen imported from Egypt and there were brands of water, and liquor, in the mini fridge the likes of which they had never heard and seemed more expensive than their D-Wheels combined. Every inch of their room – double bed, of course with chic lamps either side on rich looking, wooden dressers – looked as though it had been made in heaven.

Yet, somehow, even with all this finery around them, they couldn’t help but gravitate outside. At least it was somewhat to what they were used to. A few metal chairs pulled up, a glass table with a ceramic cigarette tray in the centre of it. It was great. Perfect place to kick back and watch Heartland truly come alive after sunset. They were a fair few storeys up and faced a nice little garden. From there, they had a great vantage point to see the whole grounds of the hotel and it was sprawling.

So, even with perfectly good bed behind them, with stunningly soft sheets and an art deco inspired comforter, it was all but over the railing of the balcony where Jack wanted to fuck. On tiled flooring and clutching, nearly desperately, onto the polished edge.

Yusei had reservations and valid reservations at that but Jack managed to sweet talk his way into it. They were so high up, they were basically specks in the distance, who would even think to look their way, let alone look long and hard enough to put two and two together? Yusei supposed that he couldn’t argue with that as Jack took his clothes off.

Soon enough, the pair of them were completely naked with little to preserve their modesty. They left the sliding door to the room wide open, gusts of wind rallied up the opaque, silvery-white curtains which billowed around them and of course, the half wall to obscure them. It was the middle of spring, yet that wind was surprisingly frigid, but it weirdly exhilarated them.

Yusei clutched onto the railing, it was cold to the touch and his fingers tightened further unto it as Jack pounded him from before. His breath was hot on Yusei’s skin as he leaned over him, holding onto his hips, moaning in his ear and whispering dulcet encouragement into Yusei’s ear.

Lubricant dribbled down Yusei’s thighs with pre-cum mixed in. He shivered as he felt Jack thrust into his core again. He panted and lowered his head. His face burned hot underneath his shaggy fringe. His forehead rested against the railing, cooling him down as he was getting so warm yet, Jack couldn’t have that. He tutted. One hand snaked around Yusei’s torso and fondled his chin. He grabbed at him slightly roughly, but his embrace was gentle in the contrary.

Yusei swallowed and Jack felt his larynx move in response between his thick fingers. Jack clicked his tongue again and Yusei sputtered. Jack thrust against Yusei once more, tight and strong.

“Look up…” Jack whispered. “Admire the view, please, for me.”

Yusei opened his eyes. They were watery so things looked a little bit bleary. He lifted his head again so that he could truly see out and over the grand gardens of the hotel. He glimpsed the pool and how the turquoise water shimmered in the mid-afternoon. He saw the nigh endless skies and the clouds which so placidly drifted through them.

Behind him, Jack’s rhythm slowed, and he drew back, until his cock was only teasing Yusei’s hole. Jack grinned ear to ear as he admired the view as well. Though, what he caught his eyes on was not the environment, so pristine and organised, but rather that rough around the edges partner with carbonite eyes.

The wind whispered around them. “Y-Yeah…” Yusei choked out. “It sure is a beautiful day.”

Pleased by that answer, Jack pounded Yusei again. He took a gasping breath and Yusei came on the exhale. His come splattered against the half wall; he painted the dark, navy grey of it something of a bright white. Jack smiled and he continued to have at Yusei, grinding deep against him, filling him right up and eliciting only the most illicit of noises from Yusei who tried his best to bite down on them, muffling them between his chapped lips.

All whilst he kept his head up and he, too, admired the view. It was truly befitting of a king. The spectacle, the ambience, it was perfect – and the balcony wasn’t too bad either. Jack couldn’t help but to come in Yusei moments later. His load was hot inside of Yusei, dripping down his legs and onto the tiles but Yusei took it as graciously as possible, like a champion, really given Jack’s title above him.


	15. Bloodplay

The knife went too deep.

Worse still, neither of them particularly cared.

Kiryu probably should have cared. After all, he was the one with the knife. It was such a pretty little thing. It meant a lot to Kiryu though not as much as Yusei did. The knife that they were using was all silver with a gorgeous, worn down leather handle. It had teeth like a shark: serrated, jagged, hungry. And he could feel its hunger. He knew hunger well, after all. He had the teeth of a hungry man. He had the gut of a hungry man. He had the mind of a hungry man. He had died of hunger and now, he was hunger incarnate. He was starving. He was especially starving for Yusei.

Yusei probably should have cared, as well. Maybe even more so than Kiryu. After all, he was the one who was bleeding to death. No, correction, had bled to death. He didn’t even so much as scream as Kiryu pushed the knife through his arm. He simply let it happen. Somewhere in his mind, guilty and dark, he thought that he deserved it. He bailed on Kiryu when he needed him, after all and let him die, all alone, cold and starving to death. This was far quicker than the hell that Yusei had, inadvertently, put Kiryu through.

So, he closed his eyes to it, and he let his death come. The knife was through his arm, eating his flesh, passing just beside his bone, and drinking of his blood. Though, Kiryu soon got jealous of his own knife. He too was all silver and gorgeous and worn down. He wanted his piece of Yusei as well.

Besides, for his cruel betrayal, the least Yusei could do was to feed Kiryu.

Kiryu delicately lifted Yusei’s arm. Their fingers intertwined. Yusei’s were quite limp though but Kiryu didn’t care. He kissed and suckled at Yusei’s wrist. His lips slowly moving down. His tongue caught on the viscera which he had elicited from Yusei’s flesh. The chunks were jagged and mostly small. As he ate of Yusei’s flesh, mulling over the taste, Kiryu deftly skirted the blade of his own knife which remained, stiff, in Yusei’s arm.

The taste of his blood was sweet and metallic. Heavy. Even in someone as undead as Kiryu, he found it headache inducing but a noxious mix of jealousy, envy, and starvation drove him further. His teeth sank into Yusei’s arm and Yusei was soundless. He had been soundless for quite some time, yet he was still so warm. It was heavenly.

The taste of his flesh was beautiful. He was tender and mild. Kiryu swallowed hard as he gnawed pieces off of Yusei. It felt so good to have him so close. To have him inside of him. A taboo kind of merge. Kiryu adored it but he soon had his bit. He didn’t want to desecrate his love that far. After all, Kiryu had starved for so long. It was best to savour this kind of thing.

But he had the whole of Yusei, still and unmoving, and best of all: all to himself. Kiryu couldn’t help himself. He was an entire meal and more. Kiryu was free to gorge himself upon Yusei.

So that’s what he did.

Kiryu put down Yusei’s arm. He returned it to the pool of blood, sticky and maroon, which he had removed it from. Yusei looked as though he were sleeping – or, perhaps, that he ought to be haloed by white chalk. Kiryu took the time to admire that thought; his eyes caught on every inch of Yusei, satisfied by the idea that he could almost see the outline. But his stomach – and his heart – soon murmured in hunger. He didn’t want to deny himself any further.

Putting such thoughts aside, Kiryu moved very slowly. Like the predator that he was. His hair looked like moonlight in the dim of night. The marks on his face burned a sickly purple; streaks, blocky and jagged down the left of his gaunt face.

Kiryu mounted Yusei. He positioned himself between Yusei’s legs. His own were slightly over Yusei’s; not quite humping him as he was above such dogged and adolescent arousal, but it was close. He put his hands either side of Yusei, suspending himself upwards in a plank, really, but he drew in closer.

Their mouths met in something of a clash. Kiryu, all hunger and all alive but a little dead too, against Yusei, lukewarm and still and completely dead. Kiryu didn’t mind though. He liked doing all the work. Kiryu grinded against Yusei as he kissed him. He could have sworn that Yusei had been hard – harder – moments before but he supposed manslaughter would do that to a bloke.

Slowly, Kiryu’s hands came in and his knees buckled. He could barely keep himself up as he kissed Yusei. And passionately at that. Through the taste of his own blood, Yusei tasted so good. Kiryu moaned and Yusei moaned back. It wasn’t a very vivacious moan. It was the moan of someone just waking up and Kiryu’s cold blood grew very excited by that.

Fingers twitching, Yusei slowly reached up and touched Kiryu. He put his hands on Kiryu’s hips, edging over the folds and hems of his roughed-up clothes, searching for the cold skin underneath but not yet finding it because he was so distracted by Kiryu’s mouth. It was savouring the fleeting warmth which Yusei possessed.

Yusei soon abandoned bothering with that. He settled for simply holding onto Kiryu and being taken on this ride, wet and bloody and metallic. He liked the feeling of being literally smeared with kisses. Up and down his arm and across his face. It was a wonderful feeling. Though, it was all filtered through the celestial feeling of just being happy to be alive. If being undead counted as being alive at all. Though, better yet, he was just happy – beyond thrilled – to be with Kiryu.

Kiryu opened his eyes to Yusei, still tonguing him over as viciously – and sweetly – as he could. He looked so beautiful. The marks on his face had turned to a stardust white and his eyes had grown as black as the infinite abyss of night.


	16. Omegaverse

It wasn’t unusual for Alphas to procure all sorts of ostentatious and lavish places to use as accommodation for their Omega, or even Beta, mate. It was a gesture as old as time and never failed to impress but Spectre had to admit, this was… a bit much. At least that’s what he thought up and until Ryoken had unveiled his ulterior motives for it.

The mainland wasn’t necessarily safe for them anymore. Though, their notoriety had long bled away from the public, it seemed that the sea life was the life for them. Or, at the very least, Ryoken who relished the smell of the sea and the boundless oceans. Spectre didn’t exactly share this enthusiasm but wherever Ryoken went, Spectre went.

Still, it was Spectre’s presentation as an Omega in the weeks following his reawakening after his duel with the Dark Ignis which had inspired Ryoken to upgrade from their little escape yacht. He sold the mansion back to the bank and he bought something very fanciful, perhaps even frivolous, with the money. It had been difficult to say goodbye to his childhood home but he was interested in moving on from his own past and he thought that a change of scenery would be the perfect antidote for that but having a mate, and one which was very much attached to having earth underfoot, was touch and go. So, Ryoken had the perfect idea in mind.

Upon unveiling their new digs to Spectre and the Knights, there was one place inside the borderline cruise liner which he had bought which Ryoken wanted to show Spectre the most. It was a place all for him and every yen which went into the purchase was worth it when, privately, Ryoken showed Spectre it. His eyes lit up, his jaw slackened, and the scents that he produced in his excitement were scrumptious. Ryoken could have had at him right there and then but he knew to show courtesy. After all, he could understand, that seeing something was very different to touching and exploring something and Spectre wanted to check every inch of this paradise for himself.

Hidden in the lower decks of the cruise liner was something of a jungle, all things considered. A greenhouse. One which was all for Spectre. It was still young, but it was there. Ryoken had essentially had the garden section of a hardware store excavated and placed inside his ship and it was all for Spectre. He could have cried when he finished but, instead, he kissed Ryoken very passionately and Ryoken, adoringly, kissed back.

So, fast forward a few months, it was too little surprise that Ryoken found Spectre nesting in his garden. It made sense. Even when he was younger, well before he presented, he had a habit of preferring to nest outside and in dens of his own, organic creation than simply ransacking a perfectly good bedroom for the exercise in creativity and instinct. Of course, none of his almost pubescent attempts at creating a nest for himself – him and Ryoken, really – were quite so elaborate as the one that Ryoken had found Spectre in it at the end of a day which he had found unusually quiet. Unusually quiet because he didn’t have Spectre micromanaging him at nearly every corner.

Instead, he had put his energy towards a slightly more constructive use which was creating a gorgeous nest for himself under the gazebo hidden quite deeply into the garden section of the ship. Spectre had, singlehandedly, dragged out half of a linen closet to soften the surroundings and then, to pretty it up, he had reorganised small, potted plants and strung up fairy lights and the like.

Though, Ryoken got the feeling that it was supposed to be even more ornate but, given how deep Spectre’s fingers were inside of himself and how red his face was and how there was so much slick everywhere, he had gotten distracted. He had succumbed to the heat which had probably been encroaching on him for the past few days and it was truly a perfect alignment of different things for Ryoken.

The fact that Spectre had all but hidden himself away, not just from the world but from Ryoken too inside of a maze of their own creation was more than enough to get Ryoken’s archaic instincts going but the fact that upon finding him, a treasure really, all slicked up and red was even better. The whole garden smelt lovely. It was host to all sorts of beautiful flowers with radiant perfumes, but it all paled so sharply in comparison to Spectre who was absolutely odious with his love and lust.

Ryoken drew in closer to Spectre. Ryoken inhaled deeply and he salivated at the glorious smells which Spectre was eliciting. Spectre looked up at him and he grinned an eager and overly wonky grin. He swallowed and he opened up his legs even further to Ryoken who slotted in with ease.

Spectre removed his fingers from inside himself, but he used them to further accentuate himself. He was all but vibrating as he wordlessly begged Ryoken for a good breed. His toes flexed and he whined. He whined so sweetly from the bottom of his throat and it was all Ryoken could think about. He loved it.

Thus, he was quick to kiss Spectre. Spectre was even quicker to kiss back and to buck his hips and to embrace Ryoken, with both his arms and legs, locking him in place. Ryoken liked it though. He liked the feeling of being chest to chest and tongue to tongue and nose to nose like that. He wanted Spectre’s scent all over him. And it seemed that Spectre had very similar ideas.

“Spectre,” Ryoken murmured, panting between kisses, “I want to taste your slick.”

“I want your knot.” Spectre replied with the most obvious answer but there was a wildness in his eyes; he had been waiting for a very long time for Ryoken to find him; no wonder his fingers couldn’t satisfy him anymore.

“In due time, my love.”

With a certain reluctance, Spectre released Ryoken from his embrace. Ryoken lowered himself down on Spectre, lying in the soft of the futon and linen that he had dragged out and then went down on Spectre. Ryoken tongued at Spectre’s flesh and drank of his slick. It tasted sweet. Bitingly so. And because of those traits, Ryoken lapped at Spectre eagerly. His flesh was so pink and puffy, it felt so soft to his mouth and suck on. To tongue over and to just drive Spectre wild with desire.

His legs locked over the back of Ryoken’s neck with urgency as Spectre’s body recoiled against Ryoken’s work. Spectre relished how he was lavished. He drooled over himself, eyes blurring, as he thrust against Ryoken’s mouth as he was pleasured. With just his mouth, Ryoken was doing marvels to Spectre’s body.

It was all well and good, but it wasn’t good enough. Spectre _needed_ Ryoken’s knot. His legs, as tightly clamped around Ryoken’s neck as they were, began to slip from their embrace. He panted, looking over Ryoken’s head. His eyes were closed as he worked Spectre over with his mouth, moaning into Spectre’s flesh and swallowing the nigh endless slick that he produced. He looked so beautiful doing it. Effortless, too.

“Pl-Please…” Spectre murmured, coming as Ryoken deeply and deftly tongued his innermost depths, “I want your…” His voice unravelled amid his orgasm.

Ryoken, pleased, looked up. His blue eyes flashing from beneath his snowy fringe. “With pleasure.”

Ryoken moved his way up Spectre’s body. He had absolutely melted into the nest after coming. Ryoken aligned his cock with between Spectre’s legs. Spectre twitched and he reached up towards Ryoken. Ryoken nuzzled into his palm and Spectre soon drew Ryoken back down into another sweet embrace. Not wanting to let him go. He rubbed his face against Ryoken’s; he could feel Ryoken’s smile against his face and it got him hot all over.

Ryoken entered Spectre. Spectre took his knot wonderfully, shivering at the feeling of being penetrated like this for the first time. He panted hotly and created friction against Ryoken’s slow, almost romantic thrusts into him. Ryoken kissed Spectre, muffling his cute little noises.

Ryoken carefully picked up his pace. His swollen knot bobbed against Spectre. He whined as he produced yet more slick, piquant and sweet-smelling, which helped to ease Ryoken further and further inside of him. Ryoken held onto Spectre’s wrists, pinning him to the nest before enveloping their hands together and intertwining his fingers. His mouth slipped from Spectre’s mouth.

Spectre murmured as he felt Ryoken lick at his pulse. He grinded against Ryoken, feeling his knotted cock inside of him, threatening to spill his seed. It was wonderful but feeling his teeth nick his neck was somehow better. Spectre could feel his body flush with all sorts of hormones. He couldn’t wait for Ryoken to fill him with his – _their_ \- kits.


	17. Amputation

Kengo stretched out his left shoulder, trying and failing to relax himself, and then sharply threw a look to Shoichi who was more than happy to inch closer. Their legs entwined and they were all but on top of each other; Shoichi straddled Kengo and, as they were both fully nude, their dicks, semi-flaccid, nudged against one another. Kengo swallowed and he let Shoichi reached across Kengo’s body.

Kengo could feel Shoichi’s fingers skirt his taut skin as he delicately took off Kengo’s harness. Kengo clicked his tongue and sent a certain kind of dirty glare Shoichi’s way.

“You’re a perverted bastard,” Kengo murmured, “getting your rocks off like this.”

“You know you I love you, babe.” Shoichi replied with something of a snicker in his tone which caused his nose to scrunch up as he fiddled with the harness.

It took little time for Shoichi to undo the latches and whatnot, so it simply fell away, off Kengo’s body. Shoichi was even caught off guard by how simple it was but he understood better now how easy it was for Kengo to attach it onto himself now.

But with the harness undone, Kengo’s robotic arm fell onto the bed, by their legs. The fingers did not do so much as twitch. Shoichi glanced over it but Kengo took it first. He picked it up and he bopped the back of his hand against Shoichi’s face; between his nose and his left eye.

“Perverted. Bastard.” Kengo admonished him.

Then, he discarded his own arm again; letting it lie once more on the bed with the knowledge that Shoichi had no interest in touching it or otherwise disturbing it.

Shoichi smiled. Kengo was probably right. He was a perverted bastard but Kengo was so fucking sexy, he couldn’t help himself as he drew back his fingers. In his mind, he felt as though he were playing a harp. His fingertips skirted across Kengo’s tight chest, edging his nipples, and returning to his right shoulder and therefore, closer to Shoichi.

Shoichi leaned in and pecked Kengo’s cheeks. He was disgruntled but he was a sour puss by nature so Shoichi didn’t read into it but as he tried to kiss him further. He edged in on Kengo’s lips and managed to elicit reciprocation. All whilst his hands dragged down Kengo’s bicep and came to fondle Kengo’s stump.

Merely touching the thing was enough to cause Shoichi’s cock to perk up but downright fondling it, got Shoichi beyond excited. The healed stump, Shoichi found, was better to handle than Kengo’s penis, in his opinion. The ridges of Kengo’s faint, pale pink scars were fascinating to him, not to mention how the flesh had become used to its new shape thanks to no longer having to serve as an anchor the rest of his arm. Shoichi smiled into the kiss as he thought about just what he felt Kengo up.

Kengo was unused to affection. Particularly affection involving his stump. Historically, he would much prefer if his partner fooled around with the perfectly good cock between his legs, but he supposed that exceptions could be made here and there. Especially since Shoichi was so easy-going. He could have it his way and Kengo’s could have it his way as well.

Kengo managed to draw Shoichi’s other hand to his cock. Shoichi latched onto Kengo’s cock. He jerked it a couple times and with an obvious, halfhearted attempt at it given that he was severely distracted between Kengo’s stump, his primary focus, and Kengo’s mouth, his secondary focus. Kengo probably could have cared less but he sighed into the kiss, messy and haphazard.

Shoichi sloppily opened his mouth to Kengo whilst both hands tightened their clutches on their respective extremities. Kengo didn’t mind. He groaned as he deepened the kiss, taking Shoichi’s cue. He grabbed at Shoichi’s cock and tugged on it hard. Shoichi simpered at the forceful touch. It was rough and vaguely hurt him, but he liked how Kengo’s good hand wrapped around his cock – though, admittedly, he liked it better with Kengo’s prosthetic, but it was off-limits, despite being so close to them both.

They continued like that. Somewhere between too motivated and lazy, gradually growing closer to each other, ending up in each other’s laps. Their legs entangled and their bodies a mishmash, wet with each other’s drool and pre-cum.

It was all well and good until Shoichi abruptly decided to change things. It wasn’t that he was getting bored. He didn’t think it was possible for a guy like him to grow bored of a guy like Kengo. But he did want to escalate it so he shot up to his knees, disconnecting his hands and mouth from Kengo.

With a cheeky smile on his face, he looked down onto Kengo. Their shaggy fringes in the way but Shoichi’s mischief and Kengo’s disgruntlement didn’t really seem to be able to be hidden. Shoichi made a kissy noise at Kengo and he clicked his tongue.

“You’re incorrigible.” Kengo scolded him.

“You’re so sexy when you use big words.” Shoichi replied, equally snarky.

“I know exactly what you want, you prick.” Kengo told him.

Shoichi arched an eyebrow. “Oh, do you now?”

“I do.”

Kengo lifted his stump to Shoichi. He thrust it between Shoichi’s legs and stroked the underside of Shoichi’s ass, bringing him forward, rustling his balls and then his cock in one, red-hot go. Shoichi laughed. He loved the feel of Kengo’s stump between his legs and definitely on his cock and balls. Kengo rolled his eyes and then swayed sideways. He grabbed the bottle of lube off the bedside table and tossed it to Shoichi.

Shoichi caught it was clumsily as he could. His grey eyes lit up and Kengo let him do the honours. Shoichi slathered Kengo up good and nice, thankful that it was clear rather than even slightly coloured or opaque; he still got that good look at Kengo’s stump and his scarring. He also lubricated himself; fingering it into his ass. Kengo watched, mostly disgusted but partly intrigued.

Kengo gave a push and Shoichi moaned, tipping his head back. His resulting noise was shrill and lewd as all hell; both of them could have come right there and then, though for starkly different reasons. Kengo had barely breached Shoichi’s rim as he tentatively pounded at it. But it caused him to smirk, though. So, Kengo pushed back, then retreated slowly in some dull routine of massaging him and relaxing Shoichi into exactly what it was he wanted from Kengo.


	18. Jealousy/Possessiveness

Asuka kissed back, awkward, against Gloria. She seemed moody tonight. Something had disgruntled her throughout the day and Asuka didn’t know why or how or if it was even fault, but she was taking the brunt of it. She stilled herself as she felt Gloria’s hand snake down to tug, playfully, at the hem of her pyjamas. Asuka grunted and she pushed back against Gloria. Gloria murmured into the kiss, it broke off regardless and Asuka was breathless – and apologetic.

“What’s gotten into you tonight? You seem… off.” Asuka murmured, eyes watery in the dim of the darkened master bedroom that they shared.

Gloria smiled and for a moment, Asuka wouldn’t have been surprised if she saw vampiric teeth shoot through Gloria’s smile but, alas, such a thing did not occur. Gloria’s smile petered out, turned to a breathy chuckle. It was supposed to be play off as innocent, saccharinely so, but it made Asuka’s skin crawl, yet Gloria’s eyes gave yet another hint to what was happening inside that beautiful and coy mind. Her eyes were alight. Though, Asuka wasn’t certain as to what emotion that they were alight with. She stared into them, entraced. Gloria’s eyes were round and swirling and a coppery colour in the dark.

“I just love you, Asuka.” Gloria replied, murmuring, a sheepish tone of voice performed. “I just want you to know that.”

The rambling reply was deceptively dulcet, and it should have unsettled Asuka. Instead, it turned her on. So, Asuka took the initiative against her girlfriend, trying to find something solid in the games that Gloria was playing. Asuka leaned in again resumed kissing Gloria. Gloria kissed back ardently and Asuka inhaled deeply. Gloria wafted with the scent of some lovely perfume and it dizzied Asuka, momentarily distracting her as she felt the creep of Gloria’s hand go down her front.

Gloria attempted once more to pull back the hemline of Asuka’s pyjamas shorts. This time, she not only did she succeed, she managed to go further than before and she grasped at Asuka’s genitals. Asuka squirmed and she held the back of her hand to reddening face.

“I truly and deeply love you, Asuka.” Gloria murmured into the kiss.

Gloria fingered Asuka’s cunt roughly; slipping in a second finger before Asuka was ready. Her grunt of pain and pleasure thoroughly delighted Gloria. Gloria moaned into the kiss as she relished how Asuka replied. Her mouth opened slightly so Gloria took that as an open invitation. She tongued Asuka’s mouth to the same, almost haphazard rhythm that her fingers were making down in the wet of her cunt.

Asuka took it diligently. Uncertain of what to do with her hands, she placed them on Gloria’s hips. They were so lean beneath the silken camisole that she wore to bed. Gloria purred as she felt Asuka’s hands on her, her techniques deepened and Asuka moaned. Her voice, even when restrained to save some iteration of face, was melodious. And honestly? Gloria liked it better when Asuka tried to remain so composed and restrained. She was so adorably frigid.

Asuka’s hips bucked as Gloria continued to have at her cunt. Asuka veered away from Gloria’s wanting mouth, pressing herself up against the mound of pillows that she kept behind her. Gloria didn’t mind; she saw the signs and put yet more pressure on Asuka and her precious clitoris. Watching her, pleasuring her; it got Gloria so unbelievably aroused. She smiled in smug delight of herself.

Asuka panted and moaned, attempting to quieten herself but ultimately losing such a battle as Gloria soon brought Asuka to climax. Asuka came on Gloria’s fingers and she savoured how it felt to be so deep in Asuka as she came off her high. Her motions settled as a bliss hazed her but there was little euphoria in her eyes as she opened them and met Gloria’s which were sharp and decadent.

“I love you, Asuka,” Gloria murmured as her two fingers languidly slipped out of Asuka’s cunt and Asuka shivered with remnants of her orgasm, “and just remember, dearest, I’m the only one who can do this to you.”

Asuka blinked and before she could say anything, Gloria’s near sluggish movements turned sly. Rather than wipe her wet fingers on her the bed or even her thigh, she elected to have – force – Asuka to clean them. They penetrated her mouth and Asuka protested, curtly, before submitted. She sucked Gloria’s fingers clean. She swallowed her own arousal and tasted her clitoris. Asuka didn’t want to admit it but it was nice so she moaned, demure as she could, over Gloria’s fingers as her tongue swirled around them.

Gloria smiled to herself. “That’s a good girl…” she praised Asuka upon removing her fingers once more from Asuka.

Asuka sputtered and then wiped her mouth. She threw a dirty look to Gloria.

“What’s wrong, precious?” Gloria asked, haughty and she tapped her fingers on her chin. “You would’ve appreciated the warning?”

“Y-Yeah, a little.” Asuka replied.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Gloria said.

Elegantly, her fingers fanned over her mouth and soon, she gave her own fingers a suck too. She thought Asuka tasted so sweet. Perhaps later, or perhaps some other time soon, she would go down on her and taste her forthright. For now, it was fun to tease Asuka. Gloria’s eyes narrowed. She hummed as she sucked her fingers, making poignant eye contact with Asuka. It made her vaguely uncomfortable.

“And also,” Gloria murmured, when she finished what was akin to her meal, “I don’t want to see other people making eyes at you. Do better to fight off those other… suitors.”

Asuka’s heart quivered and her stomach knotted. “…Understood.”


	19. Lactation

Their relationship began over milk. Specifically, coffee milk but a milk, nonetheless.

Kengo didn’t like milky coffees; he liked his as black as his soul. Hayami, however, was the complete opposite. She poured sugar and milk and cream and marshmallows and more into her brews until they were barely resembling the base product of coffee. Still, milk was the reason that they got talking. It was something of a meet cute, in hindsight. When their orders got mixed up and so Kengo got stuck drinking some sort of sweet abomination which made him feel every part of his body rot with each sip and Hayami had to cop a taste of black with only a slither of milk to soothe her distaste.

Still, it gave them a reason to properly meet. Hayami was the office gopher and Kengo was the office ghost. In a way, they suited each other and even though it was on neither of their agendas, Hayami was, or so she thought, firmly in love with Akira and Kengo was, or so he thought, firmly in love with his image as a lone wolf, they had become far too comfortable with one another. Hayami would call it love. Kengo would call it a discrete fondness.

One which he was willing to sacrifice, for milk.

Call it Freudian, call it whatever you want but Kengo was a lactophile. Of the bodily fluids a man could be interested in, there were probably some which better suited his outward personality. Blood, semen, hell, even piss but Kengo got his fix elsewhere: breast milk. He didn’t want to know why – though he could make a few guesses given his childhood – but he really got off to the idea of drinking a woman’s breast milk.

When he told Hayami that, all things considered, she took it well. Better than other women who had learned of Kengo’s disposition, but it still took her while before she was willing to indulge him. Still, the fact that she didn’t spurn Kengo straight up had meant the world to him. It got him hot and bothered but also warm and fuzzy.

They tried with condensed milk and that had mixed results. Kengo’s side, this was as close to realising his fantasy as he had ever gotten. Even if it was a bit too sweet for his liking. Still, he frequently returned to that night when he needed to masturbate. Meanwhile, it was not exactly Hayami’s finest moment. was a disaster on Hayami’s part on Hayami had thought the viscosity of the condensed milk would mean it wasn’t all that runny, but it had been. It got all over her and into places that it really shouldn’t have gotten. Needless to say, she developed a momentary yeast infection because of it. That had been embarrassing.

Kengo had thought that would have been the first and only chance that he got but Hayami laughed it off. Yeast infections happened to best of women and it was her own fault for bullheadedly rushing in so, once she was all good and healed, Hayami decided to bust out a cliché to try with Kengo: whipped cream.

And, in the wake of the last time they had tried to experiment with Kengo’s lactation fetish, it had been a rousing success. Hayami had liked how vigorously Kengo had lapped at her chest, trying his best to swallow both the nub of her nipple and the mound of cheap whip cream on her. And then they tried experiment a little further. They tried a different kind of cream.

Kengo straddled Hayami and put his cock between Hayami’s breasts. They were so small but Kengo found small things cute, so he didn’t mind – especially since he didn’t mind the idea of cleaning up the mess. He probably should have been worried that he was too heavy for her, but the thought didn’t even cross his mind as he fucked her breasts as hard as he could. Hayami panted and was made completely breathless. Her eyes rolled back as he came hard on her chest, giving her a beautiful pearl necklace. Kengo’s face split apart, side to side, with a huge grin.

He then, eagerly, licked his cum off her chest. Hayami was tickled by his tongue as he lapped at her. She embraced him as he did it, arching her pussy to him and he lazily tried to pound at her as he tongued over her messy chest. And that was only the beginning of what they would both agree would be one of their best nights together.

A few weeks passed – seven to be exact – and Hayami’s period was late. She waited a little longer and another two weeks passed, and it still hadn’t come yet. The last time that she and Kengo had had sex was still fresh in her mind. Hayami could swear that her back hadn’t been right since Kengo had gotten on top of her like that since they usually did woman on top positions to accommodate the fact that Kengo was a lot bigger than her.

Worried, Hayami made a few purchases here and there and they all replied the same thing. Double red lines. She was, more likely than not pregnant, and she had no idea how to feel about that. Hayami had always wanted the white picket fence and two-point-five kids, kind of nuclear life but she had no idea if Kengo wanted that as well. She didn’t even know if she wanted that with Kengo.

So, over a nice dinner a week later, Hayami gave him the news and he reacted in a way that Hayami had never expected: tears dribbled down the sides of his squarish cheeks. He was elated, genuinely so, to be told that he was a father. Up until that moment, he didn’t even realise that he wanted to be a father, but he swore, up and down and very seriously to Hayami, that whilst he wouldn’t marry her, he would be the best father he could be. He wouldn’t squander what he had like his father before him. Hayami took that as the best proposal that she could have received in that instance.

Over the course of a few months, Hayami became more and more visibly pregnant. In Kengo’s opinion, she made a very adorable pregnant lady. Especially when her tiny tits began to get bigger and when they even became swollen with milk. At first, she had only been producing foremilk given that she was still quite some time before they could expect birth but soon, as they drew in closer and agonisingly so, Hayami began to produce hindmilk as well.

To celebrate that, Hayami let Kengo do as he wished with her.

Kengo’s heart raced as Hayami embraced him. Though he had been given permission to do as he wished with her, he had all but discarded such a permission. An uncharacteristically submissive side of Kengo surfaced and came to rule him. He demurely positioned himself adjacent to her enormous belly and allowed himself to be babied. Thus, Hayami’s hands gently guided his head to her areola. She massaged his scalp and Kengo deeply appreciated her delicate touches. He latched on, his whole mouth practically over her, and he sucked at her. He was careful not to bump his teeth on her sensitive skin. Hayami shivered at how Kengo’s tongue ravished her.

This was… massively different to when they had tried nipple play with whip cream. Hayami felt more like an observer than a participant in this scene. She couldn’t get aroused at all but Kengo was beside himself with pleasure. He moaned as he suckled from her breast. He continually gulped down her milk, revelling in the texture and taste. It was true perfection, in his opinion.

It was bizarre how their relationship was defined by milk, Hayami thought as Kengo drank more than his fill.


	20. Stockings/Socks

Jack was on his knees and, secretly, there was nowhere that he would have rather to have been than there. Aki slowly raised her foot to him, and he cupped her ankles which jutted out over the edge of her burgundy high heels. He slid his hands beneath the firm sole of her elegant shoe and gently lifted her higher as well as bringing it closer. He kissed along the leather edge of her shoe, as gradual and as decadent as he could be.

Aki scoffed. “You’re a pervert.”

Jack grunted. He did not confirm her remark but nor did he deny it. His tongue slipped from his mouth and he edged the rim of Aki’s shoe and grazed against the grainy feeling of her stocking. The taste was palpably foul: expensive. He kissed her ankles. He was delicate with her. Worshipping her and it left the sickest yet most addictive aftertaste in Aki’s mouth as she looked down upon him.

“Surely such play is beneath you but then again… you have fallen far.” Aki taunted him.

“Enough.” Jack said and he yanked Aki’s foot.

She squealed a sardonic squeal and Jack tugged off her shoe. He was rough with her and even worse with her possession. He threw it away and it skidded on the floor. Aki fell to the ground. Her burgundy skirt fluttered around her and she positioned her legs as sultry as she could once she, and all her haughtiness, had come crashing down. Jack smiled, hungry, as he overpowered Aki. He had a leg either side of her right one. He felt the brush of her stockings once more on his skin and it sent a prickle of pleasure down his spine. He licked his lips.

“Say that again.” Jack told her, a low voice. “I dare you.”

Aki smirked a scarlet smirk. “With pleasure.” She grappled with his face, her nails digging into his cheeks. “You’re a dog, Atlas. You are no king. You’re just a liar and a thief, below that of beasts.”

She stared him down both of his eyes and the discomfort of such a daring gesture was mutual between them both. Both were unrelenting. Yet, Aki blinked first. Weakness.

“I’ll show you something beastly, witch.” Jack growled.

His voice reverberated through Aki’s stoically aroused body. Her heart quavered. It hurt but it hurt so good. Jack grabbed at her body. He pushed her down and mounted himself. He dragged his cock along the seam of her socks. He shoved it again her, rough and hard. Aki moaned beneath him, her voice warbling like some garden songbird. Jack smirked as he let her voice reverberate through his body.

Blood rushed through him, culminating as a vulgar erection, as he humped her leg. He clasped onto her leg. He hooked a few fingers either side of her stocking, tugging them down and forcing resistance onto her garters. All whilst he kept at humping at her.

“You really are a dog, Jack.” Aki said. “It’s pathetic. You can’t even fuck me right.”

Irate, Jack tugged harder at her stockings. The garters popped off. Aki laughed; it was shrill and annoying, but it turned Jack on harder. He thrust himself upwards and he grabbed at her skirts. He pulled at them too. Haste began to blur his decisions as his cock throbbed between his legs, leaking precum onto Aki’s stockings which were beginning to thin and stretch thanks to his treatment of them.

Jack relished the thought of tearing them thread by thread and thus, he found himself unable to resist the impulse. Ribbons ensued and he loved the shrieking noise of them being ripped to pieces. He tore them down and he adored the feeling of the fabric reeling into his hands. He wound it through his fingers and the tips of which graced Aki’s legs. They were slender and soft, freshly waxed and vaguely smelling of fresh roses. Aki squealed yet another sardonic squeal as she lifted her legs. She embraced him, vaguely, and allowed herself to fall back onto the floor. Her hair beneath her, sprawling outwards.

She was so enticing. Her legs still sultrily positioned as Jack humped her and ruined her beloved stockings. Even then, Aki was so haughty and smug and derogatory. A little girl who was promised a future as a princess but found a far different fairy tale fate instead. He could have had everything that she had had but instead, both were stripped and debauched. So, Jack fucked her on the floor like she was deserving of.


	21. Spanking

Yusho swirled the last of his red wine around his wine glass and then drank of its dribble. Yoko watched from across the other side of the dinner table. She smiled, thinking that this was nice but there was an edge to her eyes. Preying, almost. She knew things about this evening that he didn’t. Yusho smacked his lips together and sighed.

“Another fine choice from yours truly.” he said, contented; in his mind, he was referencing how, in their youth, whenever Yoko had chosen the wine, she always chose something cheap or from a box.

“Yes, it is…” Yoko murmured, and she finished off her own glass as well.

Yusho glanced at her. “So, wine, a nice home cooked meal, Yuya is on a sleepover… If I didn’t know any better, I would suspect that someone is trying to tickle my fancy.”

“Oh, I might have a few ideas.” Yoko giggled, she leaned in and rested her chin on a bridge of her fingers; elbows on the table, of course.

“I look forward to it.” Yusho purred. “…I’ve missed you, so much, my sweet.”

“I know, I missed you as well. More than you can ever know. Which is why… we have to make up for lost time, do you agree, dearest?” Yoko said, playful and her eyelashes fluttered.

Yusho’s heart pounded and he felt his dick throb between his legs. “I could not agree more.”

Yoko laughed again and Yusho could get lost in such an abrasive noise. He smiled, dreamily, and Yoko spirited him to the bedroom. On the way, Yusho got lost in thoughts of what he thought would be tender make up sex. Instead, the door locked behind him and it only evolved from there.

Before he knew it, he was stripped, wearing nothing but his beige-coloured boxers, and slapped into a set of handcuffs; pink and fluffy. Yoko knocked his knees and she sat on the bed. She took him by the bound hands and smiled, maliciously, down onto him.

“Not the reunion sex you’ve been imagining, sweetie?” Yoko asked.

“Er… no. But I’ll take it. Beggars can’t be choosers.” Yusho replied.

“Damn straight.” Yoko said.

She yanked him by the wrists, and he knelt a little taller with his back a little straighter. Yoko pecked Yusho’s lips. He tried to kiss her deeper, but Yoko refused him. She drew back and smiled.

“You’ve been a naughty, naughty man, Yusho, dearest, it’s time that someone put a little bit of sense back into you. Not so much as a word, huh, honey? You sure do know how to make a woman feel good. I’ve spent three long years warming the bed for you, and we’ll get to that soon enough but first, you need to be punished, love.”

“Fair enough, precious.” Yusho crooned.

Yoko dug her nails into his wrists, just beneath where the cuffs were. “That’s ma’am to you, prisoner.”

Yusho’s cock throbbed and Yoko eyed his bulge happily. “Understood, madam.”

Yoko rolled her eyes. He was always for the dramatic more so that the brutal but she was content with it so she played along.

“That’s more like it.” Yoko said, licking her lips. “Now up and at ‘em. Three strikes. One for every year of your disappearance, does that sound fair?”

“Beyond fair.” Yusho gushed.

“Then come on, get up here.” Yoko said.

“Of course, madam.”

Yusho hefted himself to his legs and Yoko let go of him. He obliged her instructions and rested himself across her lap. She uncrossed her legs to give him a good placement. With her right hand, she held onto his cuffs, roiling her fingers through the pink fluff and with her left hand, she poised it and was ready to strike.

“One, two, three: that’s all you’re getting, prisoner. I’m goin’ easy on you ‘cause ya just so damn cute.”

“Why, thank you, madam.”

Yoko laughed and when she composed herself following her bout of giggles, so did her left hand. She struck Yusho across his rump and he yelped. More so in glee than anything else. Yoko laughed again. He was so silly.

“Oh, oh, madam, you have wounded me.”

“Good.” Yoko told him bluntly and to Yusho’s utter amusement. “Two more, you bastard.”

Yusho nodded his head vigorously and over the top. “Go on, go on, madam, I deserve it.”

Yoko struck him a second time. This time, Yusho wasn’t quite as full of flair but he liked it. He held up his hands to her and it was almost in farce of prayer. So, Yoko followed through with her final strike. His now felt kind of sore but all things considered, Yoko had been very gentle with him. She knew her own strength, after all.

“Is it all out of your system?” Yusho asked.

“A-yup.” Yoko replied. “This was fun.”

“Yes, it was. I do hope we have more fun.” Yusho said, amorous. “How do you feel about missionary?”

“Sure, sounds good. So long as you keep the cuffs on, I like having you where I can see you.” Yoko said.

“Very well. And I think pink absolutely compliments my skin tone, anyway.” Yusho replied.

Yoko hooked a finger under the hem of his boxers and pulled them back. “I think you might be right.” She eyed up the blush on his ass which she had left on him.


	22. Auralism

“Hello, CEO Zaizen of SOL Technologies, how may I help you…?”

“Oh, honey, it’s just me.”

Akira smiled softly to himself when he heard that voice. “Ema, to what do I owe the pleasure? Business, I presume?”

“I suppose.”

“Ema.” Akira warned her, frowning. “I’ve told you before, this phoneline is for _business_ inquiries only.”

“I have an inquiry.” Ema scoffed. “Is Hayami around, dear?”

Akira scanned the room. “Yes, she’s in a video conference.”

“Perfect.” Ema purred. A shiver ran down Akira’s spine. “Because I want her to see exactly what I’m about to do to you, lovie.”

“Ema?” Akira’s voice cracked.

“I’m wearing your favourite lingerie today. You know, the pale blue set which leaves nothing to the imagination, all sheer and lines… Kind of geometric, puts my tits and pussy on full display rather than my usual mystiques.”

“Ema.” Akira warned again and he could feel how warm his mouth was now.

Ema snickered into the line. Akira’s personal mobile phone buzzed in his pocket. He hesitantly drew it forth. One new message. No caption. Image attached. Akira glanced upwards. Hayami was in her own little world at the bottom of their office, she was sipping coffee and convening with one of their American associates in English; she truly had the gift of the gab.

Akira opened the message. “Did you see it?”

But Ema’s gifts were far more abundance. Akira swallowed hard. He felt his dick harden in his lap as he willed himself to stash his phone. Ema’s photo was very eye catching. She truly new how to position herself for such lewd selfies and he really adored that set of lingerie that she owned. A gift from him to her as she was more upfront than Ema thought – or perhaps, even liked. And that was to say nothing about where her hand was in the photo; one on her phone and the other on her pussy, fingers slipping inside and what Akira wouldn’t give for that to have been his hand-

Ema laughed. She pricked at Akira’s swelling reverie. “Oh goodie, you did see it. Looking at pictures like that during office hours… You must be hard. You’re so frigid, dear, yet one little tease and you melt. You’re so naughty.”

Her voice was husky. Akira swallowed again. He blushed and his phone burned a hole in his back pocket. He refused to look at it.

“Ema, I’m going to hang up now.”

“Oh, don’t be such a worrywart. This is a private line and like you said, Hayami’s busy and you’re a busy man too, Akira, dearest. You should take the time to relax. Come on, dear, you must be so hard. You know, your penis is bigger than you give yourself credit for, it’d be a shame to go and blue ball yourself like that. C’mon, at least spare me this.”

Akira obeyed. He slipped one hand under the table and he palmed his cock. “I shouldn’t.”

“But I bet you are, oh, come on, baby, just pretend its me. My hand on yours. Stroking you up and down. Kissing me.”

Akira shivered and he found himself obeyed Ema’s words. Her voice was tantalisingly sweet yet surprisingly sour at the same time. He sucked in a breath through his nose and he jerked himself off under the table. His brows pinched together as he just focused on Ema’s noises.

She was touching herself too. He could hear it. It was faint but he could hear how her body was moving as she laid languidly on her own bed back home. But what was not faint was her coy moans. It sent him wild.

“Ema,” Akira murmured, “please, more, I want to hear you. What are you doing? What should I do?” With every begging, pleading question, his voice dropped a register.

“Oh, Akira…” Ema whispered, and Akira’s private mobile phone vibrated.

This time there were more attachments and it seemed that Akira’s phone was not the only thing which was vibrating. Faceless, tastefully blurred photos of Ema fooling around with her vibrator had transmitted. Akira’s cock twitched. He glanced around again, and he exhaled.

“Tell me more, Ema.” he told her, as seriously as he could muster which amused Ema greatly. “Show me more.”

“With pleasure.” she breathily replied.


	23. Outdoor Sex

“Oh, Aki, dearest,” Spectre moaned into her ear whilst on the other side of her face, he caressed her cheek and toyed with stray strands of her vibrant hair, “you are the most beautiful rose of them all.”

Aki giggled coyly. Spectre pressed an almost chaste kiss onto her lips. She tasted so sweet and felt so silken as he tried his best to rub off her lipstick with his kiss. Here, they were all alone and it was wonderful.

Contrary to popular belief, Aki and Spectre’s most infrequent date locale was anywhere fanciful like a garden or even a forest. It likely seemed odd, but they preferred to keep those sorts of dates for very special occasions. After all, when in nature, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another and given that Spectre wasn’t particularly shameful and given that Aki was rather susceptible to being assured that they won’t get caught. Neither of them could particularly help it. It was who they were and who they were was a pair of perverts perfect for one another since they both had a rather strong fetish for plants.

Thus, leading them to situations where they took advantage of when they seemed to be wondrously alone in places such as this magnificent garden that they had decided to visit for no other occasion other than to give meaning to an otherwise ordinary day. And, if they were lucky, perhaps get frisky. If Ryoken and Yusei may have the Stardust Road but Aki and Spectre had the Den City Flora Reserve.

The Den City Flora Reserve was a marvellous place. It was home to a verdant abundance of plants; some rare and exotic, others native and simple. It housed a breeding program for butterflies and a café too. Yet, it was something of a best kept secret and rarely got much traffic, especially from out of town tourists. Regardless, it was a lovely place to stroll through, hand in hand, even arm in arm, when no one was watching. And, quite frequently, more often than not, there wasn’t even a security camera to keep an eye on the guests who quietly, respectfully, trawled through its protected grounds.

It simply couldn’t be helped. Aki and Spectre simply felt more than merely at home in this place, amongst the flourishing flowers and prim petals. They felt amorous. So, they took out these feelings on each other without so much as an eye in the sky to disturb them. With just a dulcet whisper, a promise that they would go unseen amid all this greenery. Spectre convinced Aki to come undone to him. Her mouth, her blouse, her hesitations: all unravelled before him as he kissed her ardently.

Spectre cornered Aki against a camellia tree which oversaw a bush which was burgeoning with more roses than the eye could comprehend. Aki writhed against him, holding the tree steady as he grinded atop of her. She whimpered, demure and soft and Spectre relished such lewd noises. His kissing grew more passionate yet as he came to lust for something more than just kissing.

His hands fell to her hips. She twitched slightly as he held her down against the tree. Aki’s fingers stroked the bark which she grappled up against. Spectre noticed and purred into the kiss, open eyed and marvelling at how Aki looked, debauched as she was. Her hair was askew and her mouth, lips parted slightly, and kiss swollen. Her clothes were ravaged; her breasts further exposed from when he had toyed at her blouse.

“May I?” he asked.

“Please.” Aki needily gasped.

Spectre grinned, nigh maniacally, as he gathered up Aki’s skirts with his hands. Let the fabric bunch up over his arms as he grabbed at her underwear, dainty and lacy. He pulled it down and he came in closer still. He stroked the top of her thighs and edged the hems of the garters hidden beneath. Aki shivered. She felt cold with her pussy exposed as it was with her underwear clinging around her legs as it did.

Spectre kissed her mouth and the corner of. He felt her breath on his skin and felt her blood beneath her own. Aki was so warm, pulsating and undeterred. He kissed her jawline and further down still. His hands were just as frantic as his mouth as he tried to have all of Aki in something like haste.

Aki hesitantly pulled her arms away from the tree behind her. Her lower back ached as she was grinded up against the tree. She embraced Spectre and cradled his head which was lower to her now as his focus continued to steeple downwards. Spectre grabbed at his fly and tugged forth his wood from his trousers.

He pushed himself once more up against Aki and squealed. Her voice rang out through the near silence of the garden. Somewhere, insects buzzed idly, and water fell elegantly in arcing sprays over an artful fountain. But it was still just them. All alone, together.

Spectre panted as he thrust his wood between Aki’s legs. Her chest arched upwards with a gasp which she tilted her head to. Spectre sighed and his kisses softened against Aki’s skin which was becoming slick with sweat. He kissed her neck and shoulders until he found himself at her breasts.

Aki panted as she felt Spectre tongue over her skin. She shivered, sensitive, and her arousal bloomed beneath her skirts. Spectre thrust into her and she moaned his name. He revelled in how divine his name sounded in her debauched mouth.

“Oh, dearest Aki,” he murmured as he kissed her breasts, holding onto her against this camellia tree, “please, I want to fill you with my seed.”

The way he pounded at her with his wood was inelegant, but she didn’t mind. He was a bastard; impatient and greedy and Aki wanted to give him her all.

She trembled, aroused. “Please.”

Spectre groped her breasts as he did his best to make love to Aki against the camellia tree. She was just his passive participant as he had his fun with her. Admittedly, Spectre cared little for Aki’s pleasure. He was so possessed by his own. He was selfish like that and better yet, he suspected that Aki barely cared. She was so manifestly selfless like that.

With a grunt and then a whine followed in quick succession, as Aki writhed, bucking her hips back to him, Spectre came. Aki moaned out a melodious noise which Spectre sighed into. Some of his seed stained her awaiting cunt but most of his seed dripped between her legs, catching in her underwear which clung, haphazard, over her slender legs.

“Allow me, mistress.” Spectre murmured.

Spectre came down to his knees. Aki hesitantly looked over him and watched, helpless, as he licked at her legs. He swallowed his seed easily and then, when finished, he drew out a handkerchief from his backpocket and cleaned the rest of Aki like that.

“But what about my underwear?” Aki asked.

Spectre picked at the garment, it twanged as he toyed with it. He looked up at her and smile a smile like a devil’s snare. Aki’s heart wavered.

“That, I’m afraid, my dear, is that you either make do or do without.”

Forever the sadist, Aki realised. “Very well then.” she murmured as she made her choice.


	24. Leather

Ema was Hayami’s taste of the wild side.

She was everything a bad boy should be. She was flirtatious and promiscuous, with long hair, a cheeky grin, a cigarette lighter in her pocket, she listened to glam metal from the ‘80’s, had a dubious past, sinister connections, and oh so many more little things like that. It was, she was, romantic and tastefully deviant or so Hayami found. And best of all, and perhaps most important of all, Ema had a motorcycle.

There was _nothing_ better than a bad boy on a motorcycle. Or, bad girl, in this case. Ema was a real beauty when she was decked out in her motorcycle leather, just taking her helmet off and shaking out her rough and haphazard ponytail into the wind.

Hayami just couldn’t take it; she was head over heels and more for her. Ema was exactly the kind of woman that Hayami had spent her life pining for in her a person.

There was something about the smell of leather, faintly perfumed with petroleum and razed by the city wind, which made Hayami come alive. She just melted at Ema’s touch. If their date didn’t start or end on a motorcycle, Hayami found it difficult to get into the full swing of sex.

She just loved to embrace Ema around the middle and snuggle in against her glorious leather jacket. Even just walking around town with Ema’s jacket on to protect her against a chilly night was enough to get Hayami hot and bothered under the collar. So, when Ema suggested that they ball together fresh off another motorcycle ride around Ema’s favourite haunts in the city, Hayami leapt at the chance.

Getting better still, Ema had a rather wonderful idea. How about her jacket stays on during sex?

After all, Ema wasn’t totally aloof. She had noticed Hayami’s little quirks, including and perhaps especially, her all but worship of Ema’s various leather jackets and other get-ups. Ema didn’t mind. She adored it; it made her laugh and that’s what Ema loved about Hayami. Besides, she more than understood the fixation. Ema knew that when it came to herself, she didn’t want anything cheap or synthetic, it was all bon-a-fide and one-hundred-percent genuine leather.

Ema parked her motorcycle in her designated bay in the underground parking complex of her apartment. Hayami clung to her arm, tight, and the pair of them stumbled towards the elevator and went upwards. Ema flashed her key card, with some difficulty thanks to Hayami not budging by her side, here and there and eventually they made it to Ema’s apartment where all bets were off.

Ema twirled Hayami out from off her arm, finally, then leaned down with a flicker of a playfully cruel smile. Ema smashed her mouth against Hayami’s. Hayami was both started and delighted, her yelp muffled by Ema’s soft lips and dancing tongue. Ema’s hands grabbed at Hayami’s clothes and Hayami clumsily tried to get out of her pantsuit as well. Her hands bumping against Ema’s which were so much defter than her at stripping her.

Ema walked Hayami to her bedroom and Hayami was little more than helpess in stopping her – which was, kind of, exactly what she wanted. Hayami was pushed onto the bed, memory foam, and bounced slightly. Ema kissed her as she slid Hayami’s underwear off her and got out of her own garments as well.

“AI,” Ema abruptly said, “put on some mood lighting; oh, and cue playlist number three.”

The bedroom lights swirled. The fluorescent light dimmed, a chill nigh came over the room, but it did little to simper how hot Ema and Hayami were getting. Additional lights hidden around the room caused light to splay across the pale walls. Such beams twinkled gradually between blues, reds, and purples. It felt raunchy. The atmosphere of Ema’s bedroom altered and Hayami revelled in it. Then, Ema’s music began to play. Hayami smiled. She loved Ema’s taste in music. She always played bands and artists that Hayami had never heard of. It was loud and cacophonic, and the lyrics were rock hard and sexually charged.

It was perfect. Hayami all but fanned out, spread eagle style, beneath Ema who hiked up Hayami’s left leg and slotted in right next to it. She giggled as Ema grinded against her. Scissoring her into the bed.

Hayami’s body was wracked by pleasure as Ema grinded into her. Ema enjoyed the resulting fallout of how Hayami moaned and writhed beneath her; enticing her to come closer still. So, that’s what she did. She slowly moved from their first position. Ema pinned Hayami to the bed and came onto her in a cobra-like position, still gyrating her hips against Hayami’s getting her wet and restless beneath her. Ema continued by smothering her with hot and fast kisses all over her face and neck, even breasts.

Hayami reacted by embracing it all. She lifted herself to Ema for better friction; her arms locked around Ema’s body and she buried her face in the crook of Ema’s shoulder and neck. Hayami breathed deep and inhaled Ema’s scent. It was mostly leather, a little bit was fuel, and some of it was Hayami. It was delicious and turned Hayami on all the more.

Their rhythm was fast; too fast to even match the cacophonic crooning of the male singers Ema liked. They stayed like that right up until Ema had a fantastic idea. She licked her lips and moved herself back. She knelt between Hayami’s legs. Ema flashed Hayami a smirk and Hayami propped herself off. Ema began to take off her jacket.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Hayami protested with some sort of frantic hand gesture Ema couldn’t even begin to discern the meaning of.

“Don’t worry you’re pretty little head.” Ema said.

Her leather jacket dropped to around her waist, not necessarily discarded but close. Ema then pulled off her shirt from underneath and sighed. With her exhale, her breasts, sculpted by a pretty bra, heaved and Hayami watched that closely, with wide and lewd eyes which amused Ema. She felt hot and sweaty and not really in a good way but that was something she could worry about after the fact. She still had plenty of get up and go and she didn’t want to stop until she knew that Hayami was beyond running on empty.

Ema threw away her shirt, but she picked up her leather jacket again. Hayami blinked, a little confused. Ema had that distinctly Ghost Girl look on her face; one which said she held all the cards. She beckoned Hayami and Hayami, slightly bewildered, obeyed. Ema smiled as she then dolled Hayami up.

Hayami stiffened as Ema bedecked her with that lovely leather jacket of hers. All neat and shiny, black as hell. Hayami’s heart thudded in her chest. When Ema was done making sure that it hung right on Hayami’s tiny little frame of a body, Hayami took it by the sides and snuggled into it. The lining on the inside felt so funny against her naked body. She inhaled deeply again.

Ema caressed Hayami’s very satisfied face. “C’mon, hon, I’ve still got plenty more for you.” She whispered and pecked Hayami’s lips.

Leather was the best, Hayami thought to herself, enthusiastic. Beneath such an absurdly warm collar, she felt herself unravel: a horny mess for Ema and Ema alone.


	25. Semi-Public/Public Sex

Himika giggled. She felt as though she had grown far too posh for this sort of thing. It was vulgar and uncouth and yet, Himika could not resist him. She felt swept up in a sort of honeymoon faze that they were both too old and dreary for twenty something years later, into her husband’s arms and into the closeness of a velvet embrace. The two of them hid, cocooned, in the curtains by the window where no one lingered. There was a bizarre thrill in knowing how delicate such a thing was, someone, anyone, could notice something remise regarding the windows that they were making out against.

But, until then, the string quartet played on, the ball played on, people danced and ate and conversed all in the high society glamour that they, the novae riche, could never understand or truly replicate so they took relish in such a faux pas. And no one was the wiser regarding the disappearance of the Akaba couple at this lovely ballroom event.

Leo laughed into the crook of Himika’s neck and shoulders. She held onto him, posed in tableu of a waltz, almost, amused by the feeling of her husband’s laughter as his hands travelled up and down her body, marvelling at the touch of the silk dress which she wore to the floor.

“Do you need help finding the zipper, love?” Himika offered, smarmy.

Leo screwed up his face as he kissed her collarbones. “Of course not.” he told her.

To make good on his promise, he held her around her waist and with his other hand, he delicately pulled down on her hidden zipper like he was pulling back a flower: she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me with her all her wedding vows and more. The dress peeled around Himika’s body and revealed the lingerie that she had been wearing beneath. Yet more silk and yet more of that beautiful burgundy colour that she so adored, Leo noticed. There were little hearts in the lining to decorate the matching bra and panties set. Yet, Himika felt more weary than aroused, with her dress around her ankles and in her high heels.

“For me?” he asked. “You shouldn’t have.”

Himika was the one who laughed this time. “I didn’t. It was for me, dear. I see no point in wearing such an expensive dress if I don’t wear the appropriate garments underneath. It is you who is reading into things too much.”

“But you look lovely nonetheless.” Leo said as he groped at her hips whilst kissing her mouth.

Himika kissed back, threading her own arms around Leo’s neck, holding him down and embracing him yet not kissing with her tongue. Leo didn’t mind; he sighed into it, inhaling the perfume that Himika wore and thinking it was lovely. She, on the other hand, mostly smelt his aftershave and the hors d'oeuvres that he had been snacking on earlier. It was oddly chaste.

As they kissed, suspending the moment in this warm place against the cold night, it felt good. She felt the fizzle of arousal go down her spine and somehow, that small fizzle turned into an utter spark. She stopped and grimaced.

“We really shouldn’t…” Himika hesitated.

“We really should.” Leo insisted softly.

“Very well then.”

There was an unusual quirk in her voice, Leo heard, when Himika replied. It wasn’t complacency, it was something else that he couldn’t place. Seduction? Perhaps. Nostalgia for how they had once done all sorts of illicit things that they had grown too cold with one another to do. He wasn’t certain but he took it as a dashing invitation regardless to slide his fingers down between the fabric of her panties and her body. Himika quivered, unused to such a touch; it had been so long since their last tryst, after all but she liked it. It felt strangely new despite it being the same old song and dance; held close. She wondered if it was because it felt as though they were the only people in the world right now, shielded so flimsily by the curtain that they were hiding in.

Leo held her closer still. Himika smiled into the kiss and opened her mouth to him. She opened her legs slightly and let Leo thrust against her. She felt his soft erection grind against her; it felt unerotic but Himika welcomed the affection regardless. She sighed, almost in farce, before it became a moan. Himika blushed beneath her makeup which did well to settle her emotions, keeping her poker face.

“I love you, Himika.” Leo confessed. “Always have, always will.”

Himika exhaled through her nose. “I love you too.” she replied.

But she would be the first to admit, it was said more out of habit or expectation than anything closer to truth or sincerity. She knew their hearts were frayed, straying from one another, lonely hearts remaining close for the sake of being close together. More likely than not, Leo knew that too but when he saw something broken, he couldn’t leave it alone. Himika had once liked – loved – that about him but sometimes such things were nuisances.

Regardless, she let him desire her. She pulled him close and savoured the warmth of his body against the velvet curtains, scarlet like all her colours. She sighed into him and begged, breathily, for more, all that he could offer in this fabric laden world away from the world.


	26. Object Insertion

It was no secret that Akari loved to get her fix of sugar. She enjoyed all things sweet more than she enjoyed all things savoury. At this point, her blood was just energy drink syrup as caffeine made up the majority of her food pyramid. She couldn’t help it; it was just who she was. Besides, the way that Akari saw it, so long as she brushed her teeth three times a day and balanced her diet with a good round of exercise, she thought it was all well and good.

And it was also possible that Droite thought that was all well and good because unlike Akari’s relatives, she found Akari’s sugar addiction to be greatly amusing. She found her sugar highs and sugar crashes to be great excuses to be physically affectionate with Akari as Droite struggled to otherwise invite herself into intimacy.

So, actually, it was more than possible that Droite found Akari’s weakness for all things sweet all well and good. When Akari was too busy with work, Droite was more than happy to be supply her sweet with sugar. She was dependable like that and that’s exactly what Akari liked about Droite. Though, she had plenty of other attractive qualities as well: she was slinky and suave and best of all, sweet.

Though, not as sweet as this lollipop that she had procured especially for Akari to experiment with. Droite had some fantastic ideas in mind for what she wanted to do to her girlfriend tonight. From the moment that Akari had seen the covertly advertised as sex shop bags on the bed, she knew that she was in for a trip and had all but stripped then and there for Droite. There were just a few things that they had to do first, namely get the ropes that they already had out.

Once Akari was all strung up, wrists above her head, elbows bowing out, not even wearing a pair of panties to make herself feel vaguely modest, Droite decided that Akari was more than ready to be teased. Droite climbed onto the bed and laid beside Akari, she kept a sex wand within reach but that, she had designated, was for later. Akari had to earn it by being a good girl.

Akari opened her mouth to Droite and choked back a moan. Facetiously, Akari rolled her eyes back into her head and for a moment, Droite’s frustration sparked. She had been trying to be as gentle and delicate as possible but if that’s the game that Akari wanted to play, so be it. So, to punish her for her not quite insubordination but certainly irritation, Droite shoved the lollipop into Akari’s mouth. The penile tip of which stabbed the back of Akari’s throat.

She gagged and coughed as Droite, chuckling, drew the lollipop back by its stick. She waved it, idly, around and Akari noticed how slick with her saliva it was. The colours that it was coated had begun to run as well, mostly blurring as an umbral tone of red.

“You’re a bitch, you know that, right?” Akari complained.

“Maybe.” Droite murmured.

She tapped the lollipop on Akari’s lips, making them sticky. Akari tried to bite at it but Droite denied her that.

“Where are your manners, missy?” Droite asked.

“Didn’t realise you were suddenly the queen, my apologies, ma’am.” Akari huffed back.

“Do you want it or not?” Droite asked, tantalisingly waggling the phallic shaped lollipop in front of Akari’s eyes.

Akari followed the languid yet careful movements of the lollipop. “Yes, I would like it so please, forgive my faux pas.”

“That’s more like it. Hell, I might give you a second treat to boot if your good.” Droite replied.

“I like the sound of that.” Akari murmured, licking her lips hungrily.

Droite smirked to herself and Akari opened her mouth again, lewd and wanting. Droite slipped the lollipop inside of Akari’s awaiting mouth. Akari lapped vigorously at the cock shaped lollipop that Droite swirled around her mouth. It was blisteringly sweet and tasted cheaper than what Droite had no doubt paid for. It still got Akari’s rock off, nonetheless, as she licked it over, sucked it down, and all whilst making unflinching eye contact with Droite, begging for more than just this kind of play.

Whilst Akari was on the aggressive, Droite had all but slunk away and had fallen prey to the speed that Akari had set. Droite was careful not to irritate Akari’s mouth like she had before but again, Akari’s facetiousness made it difficult not to twinge with irritation. Droite just wanted to have a nice, normal night with Akari but she had to go and made it weird.

“Do you have to?” Droite asked.

Akari mumbled something which was akin to “Absolutely”.

“Very well then.” Droite murmured.

She picked up the sex wand by her long and slender legs. Akari’s grey eyes lit up. Droite noticed and she felt her heart pound. Something like nervousness filled her veins as Droite flicked the switch with her thumb. She held onto it firmly and in her own wrist, she felt the rollicking vibrations.

“What do you want more?” Droite asked. “This or that?”

“Both!” Akari yelped through her candy.

Droite smirked and she tapped the tip of the wand on the top of Akari’s vagina. Droite slowly worked her over, bringing down the head of the toy, never quite penetrating her but certainly teasing her. Making her crave more than just oral simulation. Akari moaned over the hardness of her lollipop. Droite swirled in her mouth, causing her to salivate and twice so thanks to the vibrations on her pussy lips, as well. The tension of arousal drew back Akari stronger than any of the ropes that Droite could use to suspend her and pull her back. Already, she was all but keening to come thanks to Droite playing with her like that.

Satisfaction rose through Droite, hard and strong and, most importantly, sweet, as she played with Akari right up and to her brink. She came hard against the toy’s bulbous head and she bit down hard enough to break teeth on the lollipop in her mouth. Chips of candy cascaded over her drooled chin.

Droite drew in and pecked Akari’s cheek. She licked at the sticky mess at the corner of Akari’s mouth. She smiled. Akari’s addiction to all things sweet really was all well and good for her, she decided as Akari tried, and admittedly, failed to incite Droite into kissing her mouth instead of just around it.

Though, she did succeed in causing Droite to turn up the vibration of the sex wand which was still working her over.


	27. Somnophilia

Akira kissed Hayami good night but she did not reciprocate the sentiment. He whispered something in her ears, and it made her insides knot and twist with something like excitement, but this excitement felt too close to guilt for her comfort. Still, she blushed and blew him a kiss. She had his permission and she had his own comforts in mind, surely that ought to be enough?

Looking back, Hayami couldn’t pinpoint an exact reason or phenomena which had led to this kink of hers. She just knew that she had it. She remembered being fourteen and she had this huge crush on the captain of her middle school’s baseball team; that crush had been the reason for why she signed up to the manager of the baseball team to begin. She remembered one time that he fucked up and knocked himself out. Hayami had waited an hour or so with him in her lap, waiting for an ambulance to come and get him. Maybe it was because of that incident that she had developed something of an unconsciousness kink.

Or maybe it was because she was always painfully aware that she wasn’t the prettiest woman going. She had curves in all the wrong places and was petite but not in anyway which was sexy. She was always cute; never hot. She felt scruffy no matter what she did with her hair and her nose wasn’t exactly a button. Maybe the idea of her partner never having to look at her during sex, because he was too busy sleeping, eased those anxieties or maybe she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing because a girl like her, so small and insignificant, could ever do something truly wrong.

Regardless, what Hayami was, she was. She couldn’t change that, but she could change what she wore. She tied her hair up in a messy bun, even pulling back her fringe which she normally let frame her oval face and she put on something nicer than just runabout pyjamas. She put on a teal lace bralette which was adorned with a satiny bow in the middle with a matching G-string, the modest front and back of which was connected by ribbons.

Her lingerie clung to Hayami’s body weirdly, but she liked it because it was so outside of her norm. she felt sexy. Not just cute. Sure, it might be a shame that Akira was going to miss seeing her in action whilst wearing but he had enjoyed the test runs which made Hayami feel like the picture-perfect model suited to a magazine cover.

She approached slowly, trying to be seductive and languid but really, she just dawdled in stark white stiletto heels by the bed. Muddling and middling through the darkness, searching for Akira in the shadows of the master bedroom that they shared in his apartment. She heard his breathing and Hayami followed it.

Hayami sat on the edge of the bed. It moved downwards with her weight and she took a breath. Against her back, she felt the warmth that Akira emanated as he slept so blissfully. Nervous, perhaps even self loathingly, Hayami stared down at her toes which peeped out from underneath the band of white from her high heels.

It felt… wrong but she had his permission. He had been building her up all day, telling her how much he looked forward to having some sweet dreams tonight – wink, wink – and that he wouldn’t be disappointed if Hayami chose not to enact her fantasy onto him.

Hayami shivered. She looked up and glanced at the window. It was sealed shut yet she felt so cold.

She swallowed. Hayami turned her head and saw Akira’s pale face in what little light there was in the bedroom. She knew one way she could get so warm, so she continued to twist around. She was careful of her legs, they felt so uncharacteristically long in the garments that she wore.

She all but bundled herself up, thanking her tiny frame for permitting her to do so given that Akira had, as per usual, settled himself on the edge of the bed; in case Hayami wanted to join him on the other side, she supposed. But, that’s not what she wanted. Not tonight. Her sweet dreams would be made of the living. Her heart pounded as she pulled back the covers and then the sheets. After that, seeing Akira, Hayami felt emboldened.

Hayami straddled Akira, knelt over him, her heels digging into her ass cheeks as her underwear rode up. She felt slightly less sexy now, but she leaned over Akira. Her heart raced in her chest and she was terrified of disturbing him but Hayami felt oddly confident in herself. She would get what she wanted and do so at her own pace, she was certain. So, she took a breath and she took heart, placing her hands either side of Akira’s neck, drawing down low on him and connecting his mouth, lips slightly apart in his rest, with her lips.

Akira looked beautiful as Hayami kissed him. She liked how his breaths, gradual and continual, felt on her mouth as she kissed him, grinded against him. Her panties sliding against his crotch; the pyjamas that he wore were so endearingly slovenly. She could feel herself grow wet with her lust as she kissed him but not so hard that she may wake him.

Her mind was going haywire as she kissed him. Most of her thoughts were telling her to draw back, to succumb to the midnight hour and just sleep atop of him, like a cat. But there was one lone thought she told her to immerse herself in her arousal and as Hayami moaned into the kiss. She heard Akira gasp and natter, still asleep.

Hayami grinded back on his body and she felt the bump of his hardening erection. She drew herself back and licked her lips. Her pussy wettened and Hayami knew exactly what she wanted. She lifted herself slightly and tugged at the ribbons on her underwear. The fabric of which fell back easily and between such fanciful scraps, a hand found its way to Akira’s crotch where she carefully pulled back his pants, freeing his cock.

“Oh, Akira…” Hayami murmured as she lowered herself back onto her lover.

He gasped and Hayami tossed her head back. Strands of hair fell from her messy bun and she eased herself onto his flaccid cock, holding down his stomach and riding him through, gently and best of all, he still slept. Hayami’s heart tightened as she took simpered breaths, revelling the wet dream made true.


	28. Tentacles

“Earth Ignis,” Ryoken said, stern, grouchy, upon stepping into the below level common room, “what are you doing?”

Earth was jumpy upon being addressed so directly. “I’m spending time with Spectre, of course. We’re reading together.”

“I can see that.” Ryoken said and he put his hands on his hips. “I was referring to your choice of SOLtiS body. We’ve discussed it previously.”

“I changed it, like you asked. Aqua says I look quite handsome like this.” Earth sheepishly replied, leaning away from Spectre.

Spectre looked up from his book and smiled. He ruffled Earth’s hair, or what remained of it. Previously, he had worn it in a shaggier look to his shoulders, now it was pinned back over his scalp and shaved on the sides.

“She’s right, you do.” Spectre complimented him fondly, making Ryoken seethe.

Earth smiled back. “Thank you, Spectre.”

“It wasn’t your haircut that I didn’t approve of.” Ryoken said through gritted teeth. “It was the uncanny reflection you have of your Origin.”

“I think it’s sweet that Earth wants to pay homage to me like that.” Spectre said.

Sitting side by side as they were, it was uncanny. Earth looked as though he were about five-or-six-years Spectre’s senior despite being Spectre’s junior chronologically, speaking. Still, the resemblance was more than thick. The fluted nose, the colour of his hair, the shape of his eyes; it was all Spectre’s facially save for a little bit of aesthetic age to separate them. Even the way that they dressed was similar. It was enough to give anyone the creeps, let alone Ryoken.

“If the Earth Ignis doesn’t alter its appearance soon, I’m revoking its privilege to even have an altered appearance. That’s final. This is my boat, my rules.” Ryoken said.

Spectre laughed. “You’re so cute when you have your tantrums, Master Ryoken.”

He carefully put aside his book, drawing both Earth and Ryoken’s eyes to him. Then, that languidness was cut off. He was swift in pulling Earth atop of him, having him pin him to the lounge. Their legs entangled and there was little Earth could do to escape as Spectre had him in his clutches despite being beneath him. Earth was flustered whilst Spectre caressed the sides of Earth’s face, staring into his eyes, loving but lovingly a snake unto its struggling prey.

“I am, undoubtedly, very connected in Master Ryoken’s mind to three things: devotion, minimisation, and guilt. Devotion is simple, I am willingly and endlessly loyal to Master Ryoken who,” Spectre cast his eyes to Ryoken, “undoubtedly, appreciates all which I do for him. Additionally, I do my best to minimise my presence on him. I’m exceptionally good at reading him and predicting the best course to fulfil my devotion onto him. Yet, thirdly, I am a symbol of his guilt. Perhaps, in the way which hurts him the most. I found a lust for life in the Experiment which became a source of agony for all others, including him. For him, time stopped. For me, time began. Having me as a playmate must have been awful…”

“You weren’t that bad.” Ryoken piped up, awkward. “And I do. I do appreciate all which you do for me.”

“You’re mad at me for giving Earth attention that otherwise would have gone to you.” Spectre sounded amused as he continued to address Earth, touching him and thereby making Ryoken wildly jealousy. “But, allow me to return to my thesis. Seeing my face in a very different symbol of your guilt infuriates you,” he turned his head, at long last, to Ryoken, “doesn’t it, dear?”

Ryoken huffed. “Yes. It does.”

“And this is turning you on, too?”

Ryoken had a nigh wrathful look in his eyes as he replied: “Yes.”

“What?” Earth’s voice cracked.

Spectre laughed. “He’s a voyeur, darling. A cuckold, even.”

“Perhaps.” Ryoken growled and he crossed his arms.

“Earth, I think it’s important for you and Master Ryoken to bond.” Spectre said as he pushed Earth off him. “So, Master Ryoken, why don’t you come over and put me in my place? How dare I speak so irreverently of you, yes?”

“Why…?” Ryoken asked, sour yet he drew in closer anyway, he came to his knees and was eye level with Spectre. “So, I can get railed by that Ignis infest tin can?”

“Yes, exactly.” Spectre said and then glanced towards Earth. “If that so pleases Earth, of course.”

“I – I don’t mind… I want to get on Young Kogami’s good side and if you believe this is a good method, I will abide by it.” Earth said.

Ryoken sighed. From that reply, he wasn’t even sure that the Earth Ignis realised what it had just agreed to.

“Fine. I’m intrigued.” Ryoken ultimately relented.

Spectre lifted his hand to Ryoken and Ryoken accepted it. He pulled Ryoken onto the lounge, startling Earth who scrambled to give Ryoken space as both clambered on top of Spectre.

“Are you… comfortable, Spectre?” Earth asked, frantic.

“More than you’ll ever know.” Spectre murmured and he drew Ryoken into a kiss.

Spectre kissed Ryoken hard, moaning into it. Ryoken smiled to himself but any satisfaction was made abrupt when he felt Earth’s chassis awkwardly grind against his rear. His brows twinged.

“What’s the matter, sir?” Spectre asked.

“I feel weird.” Ryoken confessed.

“Why?” Spectre asked, his eyes flicking away for a moment to meet Earth’s gaze behind Ryoken. “Just pretend its me, he has my face after all.” Spectre’s voice dropped a few tones, became softer.

Behind him, Earth stirred. He was nervous and it was adorable, to Spectre anyway; it was a source of apprehension for Ryoken who sensed some amiss. Great, big, orange tentacles arose from within his body. He embraced Ryoken with more than just his arms. He stiffened in such an embrace, but Spectre lapped up the visual of Ryoken flanked by such broad tentacles.

Ryoken stiffened but Spectre kissed some comfort into him. “Like I said, just pretend Earth is me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of this little bonding activity…?” Ryoken asked between increasingly messy kisses as Earth’s tentacles snaked over his body, feeling him up, rather chastely all things considered whilst Spectre’s caresses upon his face burned red hot.

“Perhaps…” Spectre mutably agreed with him whilst Earth continued to ensnare Ryoken.


	29. Shot-gunning

Jack was in awe.

Now, That was a strange thing to be but Jack to admit. He was in awe of how his fist was up Crow’s ass. 

When Crow told him that he could take anything, and he meant anything, Jack had scoffed. Surely not. Crow had such a scrawny ass after all. He didn’t seem like a hot shot with anything to brag about - Jack grew up with, after all, he had seen that dick and it was average sized at best but holy shit, he was wrong.

Crow took his fist like a fucking champion. He couldn’t help but to be in awe.

“How does it feel?” Jack asked, he tensed and then relaxed the muscles in his forearm, thinking it might give some sensation to Crow.

Crow nodded. “Tight. Good tight, though.”

Jack moved his fingers only slight, still remaining in tight formation up Crow’s crevice. Crow nodded again, this time with an exhale which thinned his cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s the ticket.” Crow said.

“And if I do this…?” Jack’s voice trawled off as curiosity got the best of him.

He reached up for Crow’s half-hard dick, fingers curling around the length and giving him a subtle jerk. Crow half twisted around so he could see Jack’s face - he was weirdly intense.

“Yeah, that’s the ticket. Give me a good handy.” Crow said.

“It’d be my pleasure.” Jack replied, sounding cocky.

With the permission under his belt, Jack was a bit rougher with Crow now. Jerking him off good and hard with his fist up his ass. It was bizarre but the overall raunchiness of the combination was turning Jack on and that was all the determination that he needed. Crow exhaled stiffly again as his half-hard dick became rock hard with Jack jerking it about. He had no technique but Crow didn’t care. Anything was better than nothing and a partner was more fun than solo, at least in his books anyway.

“Try both at once, you know?” Crow said. “You know, like when we were kids and he to pat our heads and rub our bellies at once but,” Crow laughed there, “you were never good at that, were you, Jack, m’king?”

“I’ll show you.” Jack growled.

All revved up, Jack jerked off Crow as rough and hard as he could. Haphazard and without a nary care in the world. Crow panted as he was treated with such ferocity, enjoying every inch of Jack inside of him, on top of enjoying how his cock was being grabbed at and nigh tossed about. He took a big breath and his head lifted, he could feel it. His orgasm. And he kind of couldn’t believe it since anyone would think that Jack was bad at giving a handjob but at least he could fist, Crow supposed.

His exhale was shuddering. Crow’s chest felt tight and his dick was quick to blow a load soon after. His cockhead erupted with a good jet of semen. Weary eyed, Crow looked down on himself and was glad that it was more on him than the floor because ew, he’d have to be the one to clean it up since it was his hizz.

Jack, meanwhile, huffed, annoyed that he now had come over his hands but Crow was pretty proud of himself for that. Crow was just a little bit petty like that. And at the cue of such disgust, Jack disembarked from inside Crow. Slowly pulling back his arm and removing his fist from inside Crow’s anal cavity. He moaned on the exit, ass clenching and unclenching on instinct and again, it was so fucking weird but Jack couldn’t help but to be impressed. Crow really could take anything up there, apparently.

He half wondered if Crow could be convinced to try that extra large dragon cock dildo that he bought for no reason other than it would look pretty in a box under his bed since, unfortunately, Jack knew he couldn’t take something that big...


	30. Piss

Hayami was fairly certain that she was being power played. 

Now, see, SOL Tech wasn’t exactly the most pro-union of corporations and it had a long, long history of being inscrutable and Hayami swears up and down that she isn’t exactly the perfect picture of naivety but she was still pretty stupid in that department. But Hayami did know one or two things about things to be wary about - like boss and worker exploitation. And Queen, well, Queen obviously was her boss. She was Queen’s worker. And something strange was definitely happening over the wooden table separating them in Queen’s private lounge where she had lunch.

See, the thing was, Queen was being  _ too _ nice to her. 

It was suspicious but welcome. Hayami didn’t mind the long, extended break - all of which was being paid for. Queen kept telling Hayami that she worked so hard and just between them, she was Queen’s favourite between her and Akira and a little bit of praise and flatter went a long, long way for Hayami apparently. It got her kicking under the table but it was still suspicious. Hayami was beginning to wonder if there was such a thing as being too courteous or too hospitable.

If Hayami did so much as put her coffee cup down, Queen immediately picked up the pot and poured out a little bit more for Hayami to drink. And yes, Hayami did drink. She just couldn’t say no. Not with Queen buttering her up, calling her cute and calling her her favourite and telling her she had an adorable nose and that she just wanted to sweep Hayami off her feet.

Aside from all that really nice feeling praise, the coffee had tasted really nice at first. It was some fanciful and expensive blend, hand grinded, that Hayami had never heard of and it really lived up to its flavour expectations. It had these delicious vanilla overtones and with various syrups poured in and plenty of sugar, Hayami’s sweet tooth just couldn’t get enough but this was getting ridiculous. She had drunk the whole pot by now, or just about, without so much as any help from Queen. She had, of course, poured out a cup for herself but Hayami hadn’t seen her take so much as a sip from it. Meanwhile, she had essentially drunk that whole pot by herself, there was barely anything in it now.

And, as you can imagine, under these excruciating conditions, it was beginning to get painful.

Like, painful for her bladder and it was really embarrassing for Hayami to admit that. She was a grown woman, she had every right and permission right now to excuse herself and to go and relieve herself in the ladies’ room but somehow, that was all being socially suppressed by Queen. She was telling some sort of story, going on different tangents, and she wanted Hayami to be there with her on every word and being a good little girl, Hayami was basically eating out of her hand.

Okay, maybe not eating but certainly drinking. 

Oh fuck, Hayami can’t remember. Is coffee diuretic or not? And to make things worse, she can’t even remember if diuretic means makes you pee more or if it makes you from stop peeing and Hayami was going to hedge her bets on the latter. She was very sincerely hoping that it was the latter hence why she kept going for her coffee cup with aching and shaking hands. Her body could not handle this much caffeine, she felt like she was going off her rocker with how jittery it was making her.

She kept squirming in her seat. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. Making awkward noises as she kept listening to Queen’s conversation, which was so, so, so one-sided, to be polite. All whilst grinning and bearing it with a drop of sweat dripping down her forehead. 

It was so bad. So painful. Hayami swallowed. She glanced about the table. It was so weird that there were no snacks which she thought would help reabsorb the urine inside of her which was just threatening to burst right now. They were very delicious looking snacks but they were just so juicy and succulent looking. Things such as pretty wedges of various citrus fruits, heavily spiced tomato slices on cheese and crackers, chocolate coated things but nothing which looked as though it ought to be absorbent.

Hayami just hoped that there wasn’t any panic in her eyes as she tried desperately not to think about just how badly she wanted to pee right now. She was so sublimely certain that if she could just make it to the toilet in time, the resulting piss would be magical in terms of instant relief.

However, Hayami suspected that her poker face was not very good. Even though her voice was light and airy with all the whims of her rather placid and charismatic conversation, none of that reached Queen’s eyes. Her smile was happy, like a manufactured doll, but her eyes just seemed so deviant and oddly empty. They were beautiful though. Just very piercing, as piercing as they were that stellar blue of them. 

As she spoken, Queen innocuously licked her lips and Hayami focused way too much on how her tongue slipped along the edge of her pretty, rogued up lips and she could see the glisten of saliva on her upper lip, curved like Cupid’s bow and saliva just made Hayami think of water and water of course turned back into pee inside of her and oh no-

Hayami got up suddenly. Social etiquette be damned.

She really needed to go.

Go as in leave and, um, yes, go as in pee but she could only do one and with the chair knocked back onto the ground, her body made that executive decision without consent. 

Hayami’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as Queen watched her, studied her, so carefully as piss ran down her legs. The crushing humiliation caused Hayami’s legs to buckle in; knee to knee before finally collapsing and she was still peeing. She landed on the ground, framed - or perhaps caged - by the kicked over legs of the chair, so elegant and wooden. 

She hated how it felt. To sit in her own, blisteringly hot piss, all fresh and revolting, as she finally finished up after what felt like an endless amount of minutes urinating. Worse still, of all the days that Hayami had to choose to wear her absolute favourite skirt in the world, she had to wear it today. Disgusting, she would never be able to wear it again after now, a shame since it made her legs look so long and it made her feel so sexy but now. She would likely only ever think about this abhorrent moment in time if she were to look at it again. 

It was awful and with nowhere to go in shame, Hayami could only hide her face as she started to cry. She was a grown woman, she hadn’t pissed herself since she was a child, no, since she was a toddler. It was humiliating, it was mortifying, it was all that and much, much more.

Right up until Queen tutted, elegantly lifted herself her own chair, and with her loose, over-jacket fluttering, she knelt down next to Hayami, one knee down, just on the edge of the piss which was beginning to soak into the carpet, unfortunately. With divine comfort, Queen caressed Hayami’s face. Her hands were cold - so cold - and it shocked Hayami’s system.

She gingerly revealed her face, awkwardly putting her clammy hands on her knees and ready to sob, she met Queen’s gaze again. It was so unreadable.

“You poor thing,” she murmured, she sounded chastising but she still stroked Hayami’s face, sending her all sorts of paradoxical messages, “here, I have some spare underwear in the drawers of my desk. I’ll go grab you a spare pair. You get up and I’ll dispose of your soiled ones, if you like.”

“Th-That’d be very nice, thank you, ma’am.” Hayami whimpered.

Queen smiled sadistically. “It’s my pleasure.”

A chill ran down Hayami’s spine and she had no choice but to comply. With an aching breath which hurt her lungs, Hayami managed to get up - with little to no help from Queen who didn’t even do so much as offer her a hand. Hayami spread her legs apart slightly, legs aching and weak, and hiked up her skirt.

It really was her favourite. It was a pretty charcoal black and had an erotic slit at the back but it only made Hayami feel worse right now as she found her panties underneath. At least she hadn’t worn anything too high and mighty today; just some stock standard aquamarine coloured panties with a bow on the hem. They were kind of childish, anyway, if anything. She slid them off and was careful manoeuvring her ankles and high heels through the holes for the legs.

Her heart jerked about in her chest as she allowed Queen to take them. She pinched them from the hem and her eyes, enigmatically, keened and that terrified Hayami.

“You wait here, sugar, I’ll just be a minute.” Queen said.

Hayami awkwardly nodded and tried not to think about the fact that she was still standing in a puddle of her piss but she felt bizarrely glued there. So, she would just wait.


	31. Office/Workplace

Asuka was attracted to power and authority.

She liked it when her imagined or project significant other had the ability to command a room and being a student, there was no one more at the forefront of her mind than a teacher in terms of such planes of agency. And there was no one at Duel Academia quite like Miss Ayukawa. She didn’t just have all eyes on her, she had everyone eating out of her hand and holding onto every word she spoke because she was just  _ that _ beautiful and Asuka wasn’t immune to such charms.

If anything, she was all the more bothered by it because she was after something exceptional in her significant other and Miss Ayukawa was checking every box that Asuka could make on a list.

Powerful. Authoritative. Brilliant. Beautiful. But also frivolous and humorous. She was someone that you could have a conversation. Especially after class and that’s all that Asuka wanted.

Despite how refined and elegant that she, herself, presented to the world, she was still just a teenager. Hormonal and naive. Not to mention how it came with the thrill of being so bad and there were none so goody-two-shoed as Asuka. 

Thus Asuka had her pretty brown eyes set upon the white whale of her school. 

She couldn’t help but to lust for Miss Ayukawa. Just like every other student. 

As such, Asuka’s eyes were following Miss Ayukawa with more than just a studious intent behind them, all wide and intrigued, when she got up there in front of the class, trying to teach the technicals behind physical education since it wasn’t all just running around in circles and trying to catch a ball. Asuka very much wanted to get physical with her. And she couldn’t wait until they got to the sex education unit, Asuka wanted to hear every salacious word there was drip off Miss Ayukawa’s velvety lips. But until then, Asuka would simply have to bear the brunt of all the unsexy and less than erotic coursework on the interim.

But, she was a good student. Hardworking and industrious. She was always the first one to finish and being a good little girl, Asuka would wait with her hands under the desk for the next instruction which wouldn’t be ages because the boys were slacking off and Miss Ayukawa had to rouse of them for slacking off and goodness gracious, what Asuka wouldn’t give to have Miss Ayukawa degrade her like that.

Calling her a naughty little girl… a hot little piece of action… anything at all.

Daydreaming, eyes straight ahead and attentive, Asuka’s hands slipped from atop her thighs to between them. They were plump and shapely, sticking together. Gosh, this spring sure was a warm one already. She was so sweaty and when she shifted her legs, an uncomfortable feeling spirked through her. Arousal. She was almost alarmed by it. Eyes blinking suddenly and all she wanted was to retreat into her collar but instead, Asuka allowed herself just that little bit more to be daring.

No one would know, she whispered to herself, no one would notice, she thought to herself as she fingered the seam of underwear.

She swallowed. It felt good. But she was getting so hot. All she wanted was for Miss Ayukawa to walk her through it. With a sweet and sexy voice, kissing her jawline. Asuka’s breath hitched as she toyed with her pussy through her underwear. 

She glanced around the room. Not a single soul was even so much as glancing her way. She felt anonymous in the crowd and she began to feed into it more. 

It was so bad. It was so inappropriate. But it felt so good.

Asuka moved her hand carefully underneath the desk. Underneath the pleats of her electric blue and oh so short skirt. She took a careful breath as she began to finger herself in the middle of class. Staring at her beloved Miss Ayukawa, wishing that she was holding a cane, maybe. That’d be hot, right? Telling her all about exactly what punishments Asuka would be in for because she betrayed herself as teacher’s pet. She could be bad too but just because she was Miss Ayukawa’s favourite, and such a good, good girl, she had to be punished as well. 

Asuka made herself jump when she imagined Miss Ayukawa smacking her desk with a cane. Her heart hammered and her mouth watered. She still focused all her intent on Miss Ayukawa, so blissfully unaware of what the Queen of the Obelisk Blue was doing right here in her classroom. Every time she mindlessly carded through her hair, which was so silky and radiant-looking, the sway of her hips, they were a model’s hips, all hourglass shaped and the like, as she paced about in front of the electronic chalkboard: Asuka all but obsessively saw it all.

Asuka followed through her masturbation with a second finger. One just wasn’t quite good enough, not when she was so steeped in her fantasy from watching the object of all her admirations. Her breath hitched and she tried to make it seem discrete. But a quick glance told Asuka that no one had noticed her peculiar little not quite a yawn or cough. So, emboldened, she fingered herself a little deeper, enchanting herself with clockwork motions and savouring how it felt to stimulate her clit every so often, when it felt right to do so. 

The thrill was so palpable. Asuka had never known an exhilaration quite like this one whilst she built herself to climax. She had masturbated a few times before, just to healthily explore her body, this was something else. The melding of fantasy and reality was just so unbelievable. The fact that she had to be quiet was turning her on then some too, she didn’t want to get caught but as far as she could tell, no one was the wiser as of yet as she swallowed her orgasm just as it bloomed inside of her.

Her heart raced as she imagined Miss Ayukawa in only her lingerie, she would undeniably look a darling in white frills and with a cane in her hand and with eyes only for Asuka. She couldn’t imagine something more scandalous and such daydreams only sweetened the feeling that Asuka was salivating over. 

She had to stop herself from panting as she slowly withdrew her two fingers from inside of herself, discreetly wiping them on her skirt and fidgeting under the desk because she was so amped up from her climax. But she did her best to wrangle in her nerves, assured by her vigilant eye that no one had caught her or even had the faintest idea as to her risque behaviour.

Secretly, physical education had always been her favourite hour of the day, not that she would tell a soul because people saw her as an intellectual, but it just became all the more her favourite. Oh, pretty please, Miss Ayukawa, with sugar on top, all Asuka just wanted to be in her bed. Or, better yet, on her desk in her private office. That’s all Asuka wanted as she privately, internally, rode out this bliss of her stifled orgasm. 


	32. Four of a Kind

They were fooling around in Ryoken’s bed when they got serious. Hot and bothered.

Ryoken had gotten restless. He didn’t have Spectre’s taste in television programs which they had been watching, cuddled up and sharing a tablet between them. In private, he was so touchy feely and he knew that Spectre liked it. Ryoken wound up on top of Spectre and Spectre sighed. Ryoken felt himself get hard, straddling Spectre like that and as he grinded back, he could feel where Spectre’s bulge was. He smiled and Ryoken looked to Spectre’s eyes. They were so wide and blue. He was so breathlessly in love with Ryoken and it never failed to make Ryoken’s heart pound.

Ryoken moved the tablet off the bed. He didn’t want either him or Spectre to roll over it and break it or something like that. He also wanted to use it as a ploy so that he could slyly pull something from the top drawer of the bed side table.

“I have a very special treat for you tonight, Spectre, baby.” Ryoken told Spectre, his voice dropping to a husky, almost feminine tone.

“You do?” Spectre’s heart skipped a beat.

“Promise to be a good boy for me.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Ryoken snickered darkly, Spectre had done so thrice for him, after all, and he held his little, unknown object covertly. “Close your eyes.” Spectre obeyed him. It was almost a shame since Ryoken adored his eyes; they were so big and colourful. But he wanted it to be a surprise.

Ryoken tore it from the packaging. He tossed aside the cardboard and plastic. “Open your mouth.”

“What is it first?” Spectre’s voice cracked.

“Trust me.” Ryoken whispered. “Please.”

Spectre’s brows twinged in mild frustration. “I do, but if I am putting something in my mouth, I would like to know what it is first, sir-”

“Not sir.” Ryoken interrupted him. “Not tonight.”

Spectre gulped. He understood. He opened his mouth to Ryoken who lovingly inserted Spectre’s treat into his mouth. He was gentle as he did so. Ryoken slid the large, gummy nub into Spectre’s mouth and he bit down. It was soft but tasteless. It wasn’t food. His lips met plastic as sucked down hard on what it was.

Spectre’s eyes snapped open. Embarrassment hued his cheeks which puckered inwards. He tried to protest but the toy – if it could be referred to as such – was just pulled into his mouth further as he did so. Thus, his voice was muffled and adorably so as he sucked down on that which pacified him.

Ryoken couldn’t help but to admire the baby blue colour of the backing that he had chosen. It truly complimented Spectre’s eyes and that’s all that Ryoken really wanted. He placed his hands upon Spectre’s chest and grinded slowly against Spectre’s body.

“Please be a good boy for me, Spectre, please? For mummy?” Ryoken asked.

Spectre blushed and blushed harder still when he felt his cock harden behind Ryoken. Ryoken could feel it.

“That’s such a good boy.” Ryoken praised him and he drew in closer.

Spectre’s heart pounded so hard that it was fit to burst. Ryoken drank in his resulting expression. Some might think Spectre’s face grotesque, when it was all twisted like that, but Ryoken felt differently. He thought that Spectre was at his most beautiful when he was revelling in all his feelings, like how he was currently; wanting, desperately, to be Ryoken’s good little boy.


End file.
